Dark Chocolate
by ScarletSunshine
Summary: There were things that Severus Snape knew, things even Albus Dumbledore had never suspected. There were things Severus Snape would learn and keep as a secret, especially his stash of dark chocolate. Please read and review, thanks. HP/GW, SS/OC DM/OC,LM/NM
1. Chapter 1: It's Bitter At First

A/N

So, this is my little bit of fun. If you notice a few new names in the story, please be aware that they will be properly introduced in their own seperate story, explaining how they came to be at Hogwarts. Anywho, I hope you enjoy it. Please read and review! I love hearing from you guys, good, bad, or indifferent!  
Love, love, love,

Scarlette

* * *

**Chapter 1: It's Bitter at First...**

_You're going to murder him; you're going to bring him home to me. We're going to have dinner by candlelight, and enjoy a piece of dark chocolate for dessert._

The murderer opened her eyes to the dimly lit bathroom. The candle light was romantic, and it soothed her nerves before heavy favors were to be fulfilled. She brought a wet hand to her face and wiped away the water that blurred her vision. Scarlette shut off the steaming water and lifted her arms above her head. The thick, warm terry cloth towel had slithered around her slender body, and she climber out of the tub, loving the feel of the thick, warm rug beneath her feet. The mass of curls had been weighed down by the water, and she could feel thousands of droplets running over her back and shoulders like tiny fingertips.

She stepped in front of her mirror, wiping away the fog. One hand held a thick votive candle, and its vanilla scent filled her with a sense of serenity. She looked at the figure in the mirror; the woman was very aware of herself. Her face was round, but tapered near her chin. Her nose was somewhat pointed, but was small and cute like a kitten's. Her skin was a golden brown, almost red, and it was tight, firm and youthful. A full set of pink lips curved into a wide smile and lit up her face as she looked into familiar set of sea-green eyes. Tight, auburn ringlets dripping water framed her face and cascaded down her back. She glanced at the tiny red mark she'd been stamped with when she came of age, and the smile fled as quickly as it had come.

It was an archaic thing, this family. Covens were now a long lost part of the lore, but hers was still thriving, though very few had heard of and remembered them. They were known for doing favors no other would, and they never failed at what they set out to do. The price was exceptionally high, and those who paid often gave, of themselves, something that could never be given back. A life was nothing that could be reinstated, and so the price was final, much the same as death.

Scarlette let a heavy sigh push past her lips as she sauntered into her bedroom. The insulated deep berry curtains shifted and slid to the sides of the windows. The glass had frosted over the night before, and though the sun offered some sort of heat, the wind defeated its purpose. The ruffling of feathers and a loud screech drew her attention then, and she groaned inwardly at the realization that she would have to let the owl in. Her supple skin was still warm and damp from her shower, and the mere thought of cold running its hands along her body raised goose bumps along her arms and legs. "Damnit," she swore beneath her breath, unlatching her window, "get in here, Millstone."

The burly gray owl crooned as he flew over to the hollowed out tree trunk Scarlette had brought in for him. He sat atop its splintered surface and spread his wings, holding his left foot up for her to take the letter attached. Scarlette reached into a draw, watching carefully for any gray mice that would try to scurry out. Several tiny, shaking balls of fur scraped the bottom of the drawer as they parted ways to escape her spidery digits, but as she would have it, one met its fate in her hand, and those tapered fingers constricted around its tiny body to crush its bones and render it helpless. Their squeaks always left a tiny dent in her heart, for she was not without one, but her courier had to eat.

"Thank you, Mills. Eat." The owl snatched the dying vermin from her hand, and she released the message, eager to see who had sent word to her. She broke the wax seal that held the envelope shut. The seal was none other than her family's, and immediately, the solemn nature of Scarlette rose to the surface as she recited the beginning of the poem.

_ "She who is without doubt; she who is with courage;_

_ "She who is not a stranger is she who is essence of danger."_

Scarlette paused, wondering what the last two lines of the poem held for her. They always started the same, but they always ended differently.

_ "A death be owed by all. When death be given by none,_

_ "She is: __**that which collects the bones who dare defy the sun.**__"_

She turned the letter over: "Daughter and Mother, sisters alike; come together where dark ones unite."

"I don't know why she doesn't just say Knockturn Alley. All the dark ones tarry there." She reached up to run her fingertips over Millstone's feathers, expelling yet another sigh as she turned to dress herself. The black turtleneck was perfect. It clung to her curves, and its insulated lining worked well enough that she had begun to perspire. She slid into a pair of insulated black corduroys, followed by the high heel boots. Scarlette was a glamour queen, but every pair of heels she wore had its purpose. She turned to her full length mirror, and grasped the heavy burgundy cloak that hung there. She stared at herself in the mirror as she enveloped herself and secured the cloak. The mass of curls gave her an air of innocence, but those sinister sea-green eyes that pierced the world often made people step back and wonder. She pulled the heavy hood over her head. Glad her face would be shrouded in darkness, off she went, with the courier owl hovering over her in the afternoon sky.

* * *

The sun was setting, turning everything red as its last rays danced across the evening sky. The people were few and many, depending on the place of residence, and the doors whose pubs welcomed night life had opened. Diagon Alley was shutting down. The witches and wizards travelled by Floo or skittered on home by the quickest means possible. The Knight Bus dodged here and there, picking up passengers and letting them go.

"Next stop: Knockturn Alley!" Stan Shunpike shouted. By now, the sun had completely gone beneath the horizon, and night had come across the whole of Britain. The bus came to a sudden halt, and as two passengers graced the windows with a hard kiss, Scarlette found she was grateful for having learned the Manus Charm at such an early age. Strange to see such young wizards out so late, she thought. There had been one that struck her curiosity, and as she lay in her bed, it was all she could do not burst into a fit of giggles. He was most certainly young, and he had been living with Muggles. He had to have been, because he didn't know who Sirius Black was. In fact, he didn't know a lot of things—and the Manus Charm was most definitely one of them.

Pushing the memory from her mind, she pulled her hood further down over her eyes and nodded in silence to Stan. Her shoes crunched the salt and the ice it left behind. Her steps were slow and deliberate. Puffs of steam left her nostrils with every breath she took. She pulled the burgundy cloak closer around her figure as she passed a few trolls sitting outside of a pub. A wizard brushed past her, nudging her shoulder hard enough to make her wince.

"Watch where you're going," a curt voice said. Scarlette turned to face the owner, the cloak fanning about her ankles, the hood shifting just enough that the lantern caught the glimmer of one eye. The figure was tall, pale, and broad, and his expression was every bit as snide as his remark. One heavily jeweled hand straightened out a platinum blond mane as he looked down his beaked nose at her. "Oh? Is there something you have to _say_? I wouldn't go spouting off at the mouth if I were but a little woman walking… _alone_… at night in Knockturn Alley."

"I have no time for you," she said. Her voice was like satin, and the accent curling the ends of every word she spoke made the wizard smirk.

"You are certainly not from these parts... An _Island witch_, which makes one wonder... what business do you have… here..?"

"I say… I have no_ time_ for you," she repeated, taking a step back. Scarlette could feel her hands begin to tingle, and the strange need to spill his blood would soon become evident. She didn't like talking to strangers, especially in a place like England where she was clearly out of place. The lanterns had begun to flicker, and she lowered her head as she stared at him warily.

"…I somehow doubt that," he sneered, icy glare seeking out her eyes to stare her down. Lucius Malfoy's pleased arrogance seemed to light up his face when he felt the sudden sensations in the air, and the soft hiss of the lantern flames when they flickered. "So..! _A Caster_..! The Dark Lord will be _most_ delighted to make your acquaintance when I am done with you..." He was reaching into his robes to grasp his wand.

"And what are you going to do," she asked, plush lips pulling themselves into a sneer, "_rape me_..?"

"Lucius!" a voice called out.

"Leave it, Malfoy, we have no time for this!" Two cloaked figures approached him from either side, and the wizard narrowed his eyes as he pulled his hands from his robes.

"I hope to see you again. We'll see how much time you have, or _haven't _got._**Island Witch.**_" The cloaked figures spun around to face her, and Scarlette turned away and continued her pace until she reached Borgin & Burkes. She was joined by two others wrapped in heavy scarlet, one towering over her, broad shouldered, the other being a little taller, and obviously the more feminine of the two. The door swung open, and all three entered in silence, coming to face with another cloaked figure. The shop owner led them to the back of the store, and out into an alleyway where many agreements were known to be settled.

"Reveal yourself, whichever one of you is negotiator," the black-shrouded figure demanded. The female stepped forward, pulling the hood of her cloak from her head. Her hair rested in dreads along her shoulders, going down her back. The dim lanterns of the alleyway glinted off of the many beads and baubles in her hair, as well as the nose and lip piercing she wore. Her mahogany skin seemed to glow, and the yellow of the flame made her turquoise eyes seem to disappear, leaving only an intense pupil to stare at the client. Her black lips spread into a smile when she saw her client's sunken in face. "Ahh, Hazel, my old friend… Thank you for coming," he rasped, coughing into a handkerchief. He was met with a deep bow.

"I know how much it mean t'you, Ol' Man Richart… Wha' ya want done by us, _dis' time?"_ The island witch canted her head, jewels clinking together as her dreads spilled aside.

"Lucius Malfoy… has been a thorn in my side… for a very, very long time, Hazel."

"Hazel never forget. Dat man right d'ere have a rock for him heart, if he e'er had one," she mused.

"Yes. He has taken the last of my family fortune, and this time, I cannot take it back. I require… a service of your most malicious… A life for a life, I say."

Like a cat, the witch's eyes became narrow slits, and the client could tell she was very much intrigued. "Go on…"

"My daughter… is gone from me. I want Draco Malfoy to join her, hand in hand, in death. She always had a fascination with him, though he was merciless to her for reasons unknown to me."

"And you know what d'ey say 'bout d'puppy love… But I 'spect dat y'wan' de boy dead cause him father kill your daughter..?"

"Yes, of course. Bring him home to me. As you know, we both serve He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named…"

The witch looked up, her yellowed teeth glimmering in the light, "We declare no side in dis silly war, wha'ya go' going on 'ere wit' Voldermort, but I tell you what… I throw dis one in for free if you make d'offer hard to resist."

"I am already prepared to make you an offer you cannot refuse, Hazel."

"And what d'you have?"

"I am willing to remove my charm and give it to you."

The witch began to toy with one of her dreads as she considered his offer, "And y' realize y' will be exposin' yerself to de' whiles of e'ry magic you can t'ink of..? Thou shalt surely die. E'ry one in de' wizarding worl' consider you highly favored by Merlin, 'imself, because him give it to you all t'em years ago… _Arthur Pendragon_. Say y' die when y' live, but dem Muggles not be allowed to know just 'ow well y'be."

"Hazel… The Dark Lord will have no mercy on him."

"No, he won't… but it depend on wha' y'want."

"I want Potter... Alive, but I want him with me. If he is captured by my means, Lord Voldemort will take favor with me. Malfoy will fall from grace, especially if you kill that boy of his, his heir. You bring me Potter and kill Draco, you kill the Malfoy's… and it will have a trickling effect."

"I see… well, y'know I require _payment _before I do anything!" Hazel spat, her hands on her tapered waist. Arthur's raspy breathing caught Scarlette's attention. It sounded as if he was already on his way out of this realm. He removed a brooch from the breast pocket of the suit he wore beneath the cloak and laid it upon a wooden board that lay between them. Hazel's spidery digits curled around the brooch and turned it over. The back had a very tiny vial nestled safely into a groove. Red platelets floated in a tiny sea of amber fluid, and Hazel smiled wide, knowing she'd gotten the last drops of Merlin's blood and protection.

"I realize this… I realize the dangers… But I am not long for this world, and I would rest happily knowing my Annabella is not lonely, and that the true traitors were punished beyond their wildest nightmares."

"Scarlette will handle the deed, Arthur… And if she fail, we bring back d'brooch of Merlin's essence."

"If I am already dead, destroy it so that no one may have it. Hazel, your family and I have been working together for as long as I can remember. This is the last time I'll ask you to take an innocent life for me. I want it done immediately."

"He d'at kill y' daughter will lose him only son…"

* * *

**Hogwarts**

Four children stood on the steps to Gryffindor tower before an impatient portrait of a fat lady. An angry professor had gone after them, escorting them to their house with his wand pointed in case one needed hexing. The Boy Who Lived argued openly with him, and his two companions teamed in. All three defended the youngest Weasley who wept at the top of the stairs. Growing weary of the mixture of pleas and rage, the professor pointed vehemently at Harry.

"I am not going to repeat myself _again_,_ Mr. Potter_," a seething Snape spat as he quietly made his way over to Harry, "return to your quarters, immediately—" He was already in a sour mood, and the prank pulled at dinner was all he needed to top off his evening.

"Professor, please—" Hermione started, but the Potions teacher would hear none of it as he stood firm at the foot of the stairs.

"Good _night_, Miss Granger." As if her begging hadn't been enough, Ron was turning red in the face, and his younger sibling had tears in her eyes. "Have I said something… _wrong_, Mr. Weasley..?"

"I don't—"

"A simple nod or shake of your head will do, not that it will _change_… my mind—stop sniveling, Miss Weasley. Crying will _not_ solve your problem, nor will it get you out of detention. An owl will be sent to your parents in the morning explaining why you will not be attending the trip to Hogsmeade."

"Professor Snape, she's innocent!" Harry had surged forth, but Severus stood firm, his face still, cold and illegible.

"…one more outburst,_** Potter**_… Try me." He could feel his brow beginning to furrow.

"She didn't _do_ anything!" Ron yelled.

"Four days detention and 60 points from Gryffindor—15 apiece. Would you like to join the ranks, Miss Granger? Potter? Be aware that your words are no longer free; every word removes 2 points from your house. Any takers..?" Snape asked, his temper short, and his sneer evident.

The portrait swung open; Ginny turned quickly, tears soaking her face as she ran into their common room. Ron followed close behind her, and Hermione hesitated, on the brink of tears herself. Harry stood, quaking with fury as Lily's green eyes pierced his professor's already moth-eaten soul. At the silence, Snape turned on his heel. "Didn't think so," he said, pausing to stand and listen for the portrait to close, "Take a lesson from your repugnant little friend and learn when to give up. Good _night, Potter._" He heard several hesitant steps, a sigh in frustration, and a swinging portrait.

"Severus, you don't think you're being a little harsh..?" He recognized that voice, that tingle his presence just seemed to cause around everyone he knew. The professor closed his eyes and leaned his head back for a moment. He languidly turned to face Albus Dumbledore who tugged thoughtfully at his beard. Snape could feel the pain throbbing in his temples. His eyes watered and swelled slightly, and his nose was red with irritation. He wanted to get through the essays as quickly as he could and throw himself onto his bed, resting his head on the downy feather pillow that carried him off to sleep.

"No, Albus… I _don't_. In fact, I stand firm by my convictions and find my punishments to be just."

"Are you sure Miss Weasley was the one who did it?"

"Quite…" Snape enveloped himself in his robe to shield himself against a draft. "The deed has been done. I no longer wish to play this senseless game of Who-done-it. If I was being particularly callous, I would've sent her to Hagrid's to assist him with Merlin knows what." His hand came up to apply slight pressure to his reddened eyes. He wanted to hex those brats so for flying that origami swan full of sneezing powder over to his table. It had been Ginny Weasley's failed essay parchment to explode in his face, and the powders had been mixed with cat dander—the one thing Snape was actually allergic to! Cats made him feverish when their traces were allowed to build up.

"You don't look so well, Severus. Perhaps you should see Poppy before the night is through."

"I am _fine_, Headmaster." He sounded stuffy this time. "I simply wish to retire to my chambers. I have desperately been trying to do so, but thus far, I have been unsuccessful, since the Dream Coven felt they were quite a team of debaters."

"Well go and get some rest, Severus. I think you'll find that a good night's rest will do you well since you feel that way. If you say the punishment is just, I stand by your decision," Dumbledore stated, his hands behind his back. His face was calm and quizzical.

"Indeed."

"I will talk to the children just after breakfast, tomorrow," the Headmaster sighed, turning from Snape, "I believe Ginerva has a part in it, but we haven't quite seen the bigger picture. Good night."

"Good night, Headmaster." Robes flowing about his ankles, Snape made his way to his dungeon. He wished Potter had gotten himself detention a couple of nights ago. Potter was always so astute when it came to organizing papers, potions and their ingredients, and he got them done fairly quickly. On a harsh day, The-Pest-Who-Lived-to-Grind-His-Nerves got the heaviest loads done in record time of two nights' detention. Waving his wand, Snape conjured a cup of tea and made himself as comfortable as he could manage. He began to read through Malfoy's writing, narrowing his eyes at the beautiful cursive—but the wording was familiar, with properties most like… No. Not Granger's? He sifted through the parchment for the bushy-haired girl's report on Draught of Living Peace. As suspected, he saw a line that Granger had forgotten to paraphrase.

"10 points from your house," he whispered, a contemptuous smile forming upon his pale lips as he continued reading, "and a week's detention, five parchments worth of why we don't cheat, or help others cheat… Mr. Malfoy, _most_ disappointing." He didn't know why Malfoy would ever go to someone he considered beneath him in the worst way possible. How could he go to Granger, the one person he loved to hate and harass simply because of her heritage and genetic makeup? For once, Snape knew just how she felt when Malfoy showed his unrelentingly cruel antics, and somewhat shared her passion for wanting to hex him. He would carry this secret of his to the grave, though. He would never let his students know he shared _any_ sort of similarities with them. "One week's detention and—what is this..?" He mused, dark eyes narrowing as he watched the enchanted drawing that stuck to Malfoy's parchment. "Two… agonizing weeks…"

A horrible sound resounding in the halls drew his attention, and the subsequent thump on his door caused Snape to leave his desk, wand drawn. A bright light from the tip of his wand illuminated the halls, and he stepped out to see Mrs. Norris laid out in front of his doorway. He knelt by the twitching feline and pointed his wand at the wounds inflicted upon her, whispering his incantations as the wounds slowly closed. Something was terribly amiss. Mrs. Norris was never far from Filch, but where was Filch?

* * *

To be continued!

A/N 2

I hope you all enjoyed. If you feel so inclined to submit a review (I know you want to ^_~), it will be greatly appreciated! I haven't written in forever, so I need some feedback to fuel my drive! Chapter 2, coming soon!


	2. Chapter 2: Purchase a Bar

A/N:

Here is Chapter 2. I made this one short on purpose! The next chapter will more than make up for it! I promise! Thank you for the review, LovelyLuna! I hope you all enjoy it!

~Scarlette

* * *

**Chapter 2: I'll Purchase A Bar**

**_Slytherin Common Room_**

His pale fingers drummed their tips upon the arm of the deep green sofa. He was slouched in his seat, legs spread out before him, relishing in the usual spoils of his victories. He closed those cold gray eyes, and like a cat, he leaned into Pansy Parkinson's constant caress along his scalp. Upon opening his eyes, several faces had gathered around him, each listening intently to the story Draco Malfoy had begun.

"It isn't hard. All you have to do, see, is be sweet on those blood traitors and they'll be eating right out of the palm of your hand," he boasted, smirking at the laughter that resounded in the common room.

"Hey, Mate, that's was quite a laugh, it was!"

"Did you see her face, mate?" Zabini laughed. Pansy's shrill laughter filled the air; Crabbe and Goyle laughed accordingly, their sheer lack of inner depth much more pronounced.

"Draco, sweetheart, how did you do it," Pansy asked.

"I got the Weasley prat to believe I was going to look it over and tell her what was wrong. It was easy pickings from there."

"You know, you're a real _dick_," A voice said. The owner had obviously been sitting in a corner of the common room. His black hair was pulled back into a ponytail, his jaw was clenched tightly, and the coldness in his cobalt blue eyes was enough to rival Malfoy's.

"Is that right, Britches?" Malfoy mused, his eyes narrowing as he stared at the American transfer.

"Yeah, that's right… and you're gonna get what the fuck you've got coming to you, _asshole!_ That was so damn unnecessary—"

"Defending the blood traitor, are you?" Malfoy's face became a sneer as he pushed himself from his seat. All eyes were on Jean Jordache, the young wizard's target. "I tell you… they let anyone into Slytherin these days…"

"Malfoy, _MY blood_ is cleaner than yours! At least my family didn't have to fuck each other just to keep it 'pure', damn!" Jean yelled, the malice in his voice. "Now, I'm not innocent, and I'm not defending Weasel, but you took it too far! I want you to know that that shit was unacceptable! Karma is a _bitch!_"

"You've got some nerve, pratting about here like you own the place! My father could lay down enough galleons to have you expelled. And anyway, weren't you just bitching about not wanting to be here? Talk to your _invisible Magic Headmaster, _and go back to America to warm someone's arse, britches!"

"Fuck _you—"_ Jean started, but an invisible force knocked him against the wall in front of which he stood. "The Magi," He coughed, "He's _**real!**_ And you'll _**regret**_ ever talking shit about him! He's _**here!**_" Travis Magi, a broad shouldered sixth year transfer, put his wand back into his robes and helped his best friend from the floor. He was quick to calm Jean down from flying into a fit of hysterics over his father. Malfoy and his entourage threw back their heads in laughter.

"Don't worry about it," Travis warned, looking over his shoulder at Draco, "his girlfriend is waiting for him in your dorm." Everyone in the common room was silenced, and exchanged looks of wonder and confusion. Jean held Travis's gaze and frowned in bewilderment.

"_Girlfriend_—not Regina, I didn't even see her come in."

"Nope, not her," Travis said, dusting his buddy off.

"I know it ain't Hina. You'd bludgeon that shithead to _death_ if he touched your sister," Jean sighed.

"Nope. She followed me in here a few minutes ago. She's a cutie. I guess she met him in Hogsmeade, or he might've met her when the other schools participated in the Tri-Wizard Tournament. We were here for that," Travis shrugged.

"Probably another girl my father sent," Draco huffed, sneering at Jean as he brushed past and rushed up to their dorm.

"But, Travis! How the hell would she _get into_ the _school_ with security like this?"

Travis just shrugged, "Potter does it. How else did he get to Hogsmeade when he wasn't allowed? Probably underground passages and whatnot. Although…"

"Your father would've put a stop to that and hexed us to hell in a fuckin' _handbasket_, if he'd discovered we defiled his school to break rules." Jean shuddered at the mere thought.

"Yeah, well… we're not home." Travis put a hand on his best friend's shoulder, "so we have to play by their rules while we're still here."

* * *

**Scarlette**

She reclined on the four-poster bed, resting her head on the thick white pillows. The deep green curtains obscured her sight, but her hearing would do just fine. She'd heard the conversation downstairs in the common room. The witch's lush lips curled upward in a smile as she shifted to her hands and knees. Scarlette pushed the deep red cloak's hood back, letting those dense ringlets of auburn spill free. She felt a tremble of excitement pass through her form, and she looked up just as the voices of Draco Malfoy, Vincent Crabbe, and Gregory Goyle grew closer. The curtains swung open, and the light shone down on Scarlette's golden brown skin, illuminating those sea green eyes. Draco's face softened at the sight of her, yet his expression was none short of utter confusion at which the witch's smile grew.

He wasn't sure whether to be excited because of how inviting she looked, or to be frightened beyond his wits. To the fifth year Slytherin, those sea green eyes stared at him, leaving him with the feeling of being a stag about to become the bounty of a hungry mountain lion. "Who the bloody hell are you..?" Malfoy breathed out.

Scarlette leaned forward, brushing her lips against his cheek as her whispers danced in his ear, "Karma."

* * *

**Snape**

Snape's steps were hurried. He'd looked down the hall to see a Slytherin escorting a young lady with thick auburn curls spilling down her back. He'd tried to get a good look at her face, but that hair of hers was like a bush that obstructed someone's view of oncoming people around the corner. He'd followed Travis a fair distance, having already revived Mrs. Norris, but stopped upon seeing Filch, lying stunned in the most brutal fashion he'd ever seen. He knelt down long enough to see that Filch had a pulse, which had inevitably taken up precious time. The portraits had already begun to whisper, and soon, word was traveling throughout the school to awaken Albus Dumbledore. Bursting into the Slytherin chambers, he addressed the first individual he saw, whose shocked expression let Snape know he'd caught them in the midst of some iniquitous act.

"Which one of you invited a student not of this house?" he demanded.

Pansy scowled as she turned to face Travis and Jean, "Those two idiots. It's Draco's so-called _girlfriend._"

"Draco Malfoy… is not involved… with anyone," Snape frowned, talking more to himself than to the students. A blood curdling scream and two very unusual shrieks came downstairs. The sound of something heavy hitting the wall caused Snape to draw his wand and rush up the stairs to the fifth years' boys' dormitory. The students crowded the steps behind their Head of House, and Snape's heart nearly skipped a beat at the sight before him: Draco lie in a crumpled heap on the floor. The wall behind him had caved in slightly, acting as the cradle that would crush half of his body upon impact. Crabbe and Goyle were stunned, lying motionless on the floor.

* * *

**Scarlette**

The assailant had pulled her hood over her head, shrouding her face in darkness yet again.

"_Expelliarmus!_" the professor shouted; a red beam shot forth from the tip of his wand, hitting her cloaked figure. She flew backward, landing on a bed, and rolled to the floor. The potions teacher searched the floor for a wand but found none.

"_Expelliarmus!_" Scarlette hissed, a red beam shooting out from beneath the bed. Snape's wand flew across the room. "Accio wand…" Her voice sounded ominous, and the wand flew to the hand of the witch as she rose from the floor slowly. She aimed the captive wand at a battered Draco, putting her own back into the confines of her cloak. Snape's blood ran cold; the air was cool, and it seemed more alive than he'd ever known it to feel. The room seemed to breathe, and he could feel the hairs on the back of his neck begin to rise just as the witch's hands left her side.

Leaning her head back and embracing the world around her, unseen forces lifted Draco from the floor and slammed him into the wall once more. Cradled in the crevice, Scarlette held Snape's wand tightly, and wordlessly fired the last attack he'd used. Malfoy's eyes were wide, and he felt his life beginning to slip away as the unspeakable pain wracked his body. He was dying, and soon, he'd stopped breathing altogether. The witch suddenly flew backward; the carpet on which she stood had whipped itself from beneath her, and that same unseen force knocked her into a wall.

"She's a _Caster!_" Looking up, Scarlette could see Jean Jordache as he conjured a ball of water. In seconds, she found herself choking as the water enveloped her head and began to rush into her nose and mouth. Angrily, she threw Snape's wand his way, adding the needed gusto of her own will behind it. It was like a knife, shooting just past Jean's face, distracting him and causing the water sphere he'd cast around her head to shatter and soak her form. Piercing sea green eyes beheld Severus Snape as his own energy shoved Jean Jordache out of the dormitory, leaving just those two standing.

"Who are you?" Snape asked, his expression darkening as he held up a hand. Scarlette cried out as a surge of electricity passed through her form. "What business do you have… here..?" He reached his hand back just as his wand dislodged itself from the wall and returned to its owner. Aiming his wand at the hood on her head, a gust of wind blew it back, and it was all Snape could do not to panic where he stood. A moment of silence passed between intruder and defender; Scarlette knew this man, and this man knew Scarlette.

The witch fell to her knees, and the room shook violently as the floor gave way beneath her. Scarlette was enveloped by the seemingly endless folds of her burgundy cloak, and darkness itself. She would land gracefully, looking up to see Severus Snape sneering down at her.

"_Severus!_" she heard a grand voice call; once the professor turned his head, the witch turned tail and ran. She was sure Draco Malfoy wouldn't survive the hour, let alone the night. Harry Potter had to be taken as quietly as possible. As soon as this is over, she thought, I am going to enjoy the biggest chocolate sundae in the world.

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-On to Chapter 3: Two for the price of One!

A/N: So there you have it! I hope you enjoyed this chapter. If you feel so inclined (please do, loves), leave me a review! Next Chapter will be posted soon!


	3. Chapter 3: Two For the Price of One

A/N Thanks for the reviews! I'm so glad you enjoyed it! I know the last chapter was short! As promised, this one more than makes up for it! I hope you enjoy it!

Love, love, love!

~Scarlette

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**Chapter 3: Two For the Price of One Isn't Always a Good Deal.**

"Is the boy alive..?" Snape asked with irritation, wand still drawn. Madam Pomfrey steadily fussed over a profusely bleeding Draco Malfoy.

"Albus-Albus, I'm _losing_ him..!" She said sharply. Severus briskly shooed her away and knelt by the young wizard. "Severus, this is no time for—"

"Hush, Poppy. Let him do it." Albus said. He listened to Snape drawl, pointing his wand over the boy's chest. The incantations were merely enough to close the lacerations, but the damage done internally would have to be dealt with by the school matron. Albus tended to Crabbe and Goyle, and much to his relief, the boys groaned as they were released. "Boys, are you alright..?"

Crabbe was the first to respond, his eyes red from the tears that began to fall, "Am I alright? She tried to _**kill**_ us, am I alright?"

"_**I want to go home!**_" A sniffling Goyle whimpered. Both boys looked over to see Draco being tended to.

"Draco!" Crabbe cried.

"Is he dead?"

"He is going to be fine. Poppy, _hurry!_", Dumbledore hissed.

"I am doing the best I _can!_" She said, forcing back the tears.

"Headmaster, allow me to obstruct the intruder…" Severus felt his nerves beginning give way under the pressure. What the hell was she doing here? Well, that was quite obvious. He was sure Draco would die.

The Headmaster found himself staring at the wall that Draco's body had caved in. _Stone. _He knew, immediately, that if the boy survived, it would be because fate decided he deserved to live. He could see the boy's lips beginning to purple, and Poppy's gentle incantations were forcing air into his lungs. He could not be moved. "I will join you shortly, Severus. Go, and _**be careful**_," he said, his powerful voice clipped and flavored with a quiet rage. "Poppy, I will alert St. Mungo's. Mr. Malfoy will perish if he remains any longer."

"Albus!" She cried. She'd never had a student die in front of her in all her years of service.

Dumbledore turned, a piercing look in those eyes as he addressed Madam Pomfrey, "Poppy, I believe in you. You've never let us down, and I know you won't this tonight. Now is not the time to lose your wit. Do what you can to keep Mr. Malfoy alive until the escorts arrive." With that, he escorted Crabbe and Goyle to the common room, leaving a sniffling Poppy to resuscitate the dying boy.

The moment the Headmaster turned his back, Severus Snape jumped down the gaping hole in the castle floor, and knowing he was alone, began to fly. His robes billowed about him, his face was cold and emotionless, but his ever-searching eyes held a mixture of malice and excitement… After all, he hadn't seen Scarlette since she was seventeen, and he had been twenty-five.

* * *

Scarlette had known better. The snoring portraits on the wall were all she needed to remind her not to illuminate her way. If she remembered anything about Severus Snape, it was that he had cunning and was more than daring to go tying up loose ends. Her heart skipped paces; a horrid sense of vertigo washed over her, and she leaned against a wall when she could go no further, lest she collapse. She hadn't expected to use such force; her chest hurt from having been hit by the young and the elder Caster, and the muscles of her back were beginning to stiffen from having hit the stone wall of the dorm with such strength.

Casting consumed one's life force, and it left its wielder feeling as if they had been in the arms of a dementor for hours if proper care was not taken. In her case, the witch had forgotten to eat, and warding off the dizzying waves of exhaust and despair would require a bite of dark chocolate. She didn't have time to infiltrate the school's kitchen, otherwise, she would've gone there and sweet-talked a house elf into providing some sort of food._ I really need that sundae_, she thought, fighting off the urge to whimper. She could barely hear the hushed, hurried footfalls coming down the hall over her own labored breathing—but they were there, and she didn't know who or what it was.

She ducked behind a corner and crouched, and like a cat with its belly pressed to the floor, she hushed her breathing and listened intently.

"Ginny… Ginny, it's fine."

"No, Harry, it bloody well _isn't_, and you know it! Mum's going to have my _head_," Ginevra Weasley sniffled. Scarlette watched as the two silhouettes reappeared from beneath the nothingness in the hallway. The muss-haired boy towered over the flaming red haired girl; the latter's wand lit up the space where they stood. She could see the tears streaming down Ginny's face. Harry hugged her close and brushed the hair from her face. The portraits complained, but both ignored their jeering and snorting.

"Ginny, listen to me: you didn't _do anything_. Nothing. That Slytherin git tricked you into handing him your parchment, though why you went against your better judgment is beyond me," Harry chuckled. To his relief, Ginny let out a small giggle. "The two of us out here aren't going to help your case any, so I'll take you back to common room."

Ginny grounded herself where she stood. "No, I said I wanted pudding, so I'm going to get it."

"I'll get it for you. Besides, what more can I get into trouble for that I haven't been in detention for already? I haven't got much to lose." Harry shrugged as he brought a hand up to muss his hair.

"I'll be fine, Harry."

"You sure..?" The boy could remember Ginny's possession like it was only yesterday, though it had been three years since. He knew the school was secure, but after Sirius, one could never be too sure.

"I'm fine," she sighed, turning to walk back to the steps leading up to the common room. She paused to turn and lock gazes with him. "Harry..?"

"Yeah, Ginny," he responded, unfolding The Marauder's Map.

"Thanks." Harry waved as Ginny scurried up the steps and through the swinging portrait. He adjusted his glasses as he pulled the invisibility cloak up to conceal himself once more. "I solemnly swear I am up to no good." The Map seemed to be alive with alarm. Several things were amiss, and made the young Gryffindor want to turn tail and run back, but curiosity kept him where he stood. The Map never lied, and he didn't understand why Albus Dumbledore would be in the House of Slytherin. He stood before every student… but one.

Draco Malfoy's name was beginning to fade from the Map. Madam Pomfrey was beside him. Filch and Mrs. Norris were in the hospital wing. Someone named Traversus Magi had the nickname "Magic Al" beneath his name, and he was in the kitchen. "…_the hell_.." Maybe Jean wasn't lying, he thought, thinking back on the days Jean Jordache raved over his strange Headmaster. He'd seen him petting a little black cat—and that was Magic Al. Things were coming together as quickly as they were falling apart!

Minerva McGonagall fled her quarters and replaced Dumbledore, who turned and fled from the House with urgency. Severus Snape showed the strangest activity: either he was running very quickly, faster than Harry could ever imagine the Potions teacher could, or he was _flying_—and brooms were impractical. Snape simply didn't believe in them.

Not far off, Harry could see a tiny, elegant red crest a few feet from where he stood. There was no name beneath or above it, and it was fast approaching. Harry cast his robe aside and pointed his wand at the cloaked figure before him, but a gust threw him against the wall. Harry's eyes widened and he gasped for air after the wind was knocked out of him. Everything hurt more than he could fathom; one thing was for sure, whoever this was, it was no death eater. The red cloak said more than enough. This individual was astute in their art, for there was no wand readily available to attack… _Wandless,_ Harry thought, a force pressing him, crushing him; he felt like he was an herb being crushed for its oils. There were only four students he knew of that were wandless users, and each one of them detested the use of a wand. But Hina Magi was his girlfriend, and she was much too sweet. He had glanced her name in the common room.

"I'll be taking this, now," Scarlette whispered into his ear, "Oh, and you, too." She picked up the discarded parchment and his wand, and smiled wide when she saw tiny footprints of herself, Harry, and all of the alerted staff of Hogwarts. "Our way out—" she started, but Severus's name was moving much too quickly… All too soon, a clipped, morose voice spoke softly to her.

"Still playing with your food, I see. Let. _Him. __**Go.**__"_

Scarlette whipped around, hands extended she drew from their surroundings and pushed Snape back. Snape's fluent motion met her force with his own, and there was a loud_** CRACK **_in the air. The potions teacher held his hands up high, and electricity began to crackle around Scarlette's ankles before snaking up to shock her. The latter's lips parted as a high pitched shriek filled the air, and she retaliated, pulling her hands back to draw more from where they stood. The air grew cold and damp, and shards of ice cut through the air toward him. Snape's left hand was pierced by one, and infuriated, he let himself succumb to his anger.

Sparks flew from every part of him as he screamed in fury, destroying the shards Scarlette conjured. The latter was blown back, and used the anchorage of the wall to launch yet another forceful manipulation at Snape; the professor flew across the hall and slid down. His black hair covered his equally dark eyes, and Scarlette approached cautiously. Severus was not whom she wished to inflict bodily harm. She reached down to gingerly move the hair from her face. "Severus, are you okay..?"

"Never better…" Snape drawled, looking past Scarlette to the unconscious boy pressed against a wall. "You're going to kill him." Scarlette simply waved her hand toward Harry, and he was now The Boy Who Lived To Breathe.

"Severus, I am so sorry..!" Scarlette had begun to fuss over him. For a moment, Snape let her do what she wanted. It took him back to the days before all of this misery unfolded. He could smell the vanilla on her skin, and it was all he could do not to lean his head into the palm of her hand. But there were things to do, and this was a visit most uncalled for. Scarlette was no exception. He'd reached into his robe to draw his wand, and the witch flew backward as that damnable red beam left its tip. She landed in a heap and was slow to push herself up and draw her own wand. Beams of light, bolts and hexes were fired. Objects flew and shattered on impact. Clothing was set aflame, both duelists nearly crushed or drowned, and disfigured from a wayward hex. Characters fled from their paintings, and wizards from their portraits seeking safety. Scarlette found herself distracted by dormant emotions, and this only took away from the effect of her magic.

_**"ENOUGH!"**_ A powerful voice boomed, and Scarlette was blown face first into the wall Harry had slid down. She dropped to the floor in silence. The world was black for but a moment and the witch knew all was lost. She had killed Draco Malfoy, but she would fail to bring Harry Potter to Arthur Pendragon. Merlin knew what awaited her once she awoke.

* * *

"Thank you, Headmaster… but I was fine," Snape groaned. He accepted the hand Dumbledore extended and stood up. He brushed himself off and picked up his wand.

"I apologize, Severus. I did not mean to harm you. But…"

"A sacrifice had to be made, is that right..?"

"Not necessarily." The great wizard knelt down, carefully rolling a tiny black kitten into the palm of his hand, "I couldn't very well let you accidentally harm Harry." He brought gentle fingertips over the kitten's head. "It seems you were _enjoying_ yourself in the heat of battle. Am I right?" Dumbledore turned to watch his acolyte's expression. As usual, it was unreadable, but something had changed just a bit.

The blood left Snape's face as realization came to surface. He stared at the shuddering ball in the Headmaster's hand and reached out to push the creature's eyelid back; just as he expected, Lily's green eye stared through him rather than at him. "I believe she meant to drown me, Albus." He was almost breathless. It amazed him how Scarlette could change quicker than a boggart. One moment she was fussing over him, and she was trying to kill him in the next! He hadn't been sure just how much she had changed since their last encounter. His eyes wandered over to the heap covered by her tattered burgundy cloak.

"I concur," Albus nearly whispered. He watched Snape's movements and the careful, fluent motions with his hands; the witch's hands were moved and positioned flat on the floor. The floor became as quicksand, swallowing the palms and fingertips of her most deadly weapons. A dark look took its place upon the Headmaster's brow, and those blue eyes beheld the Potions teacher with intensity, "I was not aware of your judiciousness in the art of _'Casting'_, Severus."

Severus caught Dumbledore's intensity from the corner of those dark eyes as they narrowed, "Contrary to_ popular belief_, I do have a life outside… of Hogwarts. It is every bit… as clouded and mysterious as your own, Headmaster. Call me on it, and I shall surely return the favor."

"Of course, Severus. One can't help but wonder why this young lady would grace us with her presence at such an hour..?" Dumbledore eyed a piece of folded parchment on the floor beside her and adjusted his half-moon spectacles. He stared at the intruder, whose thick, auburn curls had spilled forward like cinnamon, and shrouded her face and shoulders. He could see her lips trembling as they parted, and her nostrils flared as she strove to catch her breath. His gaze left her face as Snape knelt to remove the cloak and roll up her sleeves. Dumbledore's brows furrowed at the sigh of relief Severus released when he saw her forearms were bare.

"I do not live a fairy tale life," Snape continued in a clipped voice, his sneer growing all the more obvious at having accidentally divulged his secret, "But it certainly is _not_ boring." He snatched the parchment from floor, read its contents, and slid it into his pocket. The witch had been bested at her own game, and now, she would pay the price; For Severus was the cruelest of them all. The Headmaster noted how the potions teacher acted; somewhat protective, yet as cold and reserved as he could manage. He'd seen that look before… and all too soon, Albus Dumbledore recognized the familiarity between the two.

"I will bring her in for questioning, and if she's not as stupid as she looks… She'll answer honestly, lest I extract that which we seek through use of Veritaserum. She will be held here overnight so as not to alarm the students, especially the _Golden boy_, should the ministry deem it… necessary to have the dementors accompany them."

"Very well, Severus, but I admonish you to watch yourself. You know _Casting_ is, by far, the most dangerous art in the history of Witchcraft and Wizardry. We have the Magi siblings and Mr. Jordache to thank for the reminder." His eyes twinkled at the thought of three new students having entered Hogwarts. It was odd that the Sorting Hat saw that they were divided, but the girl of the group of American students did prove to have a very outgoing persona. Albus pet Harry the kitten once more, a small smile hidden by his great beard. He had to wonder.

"Albus, the boy..?" Severus asked, his thoughts wandering toward the cause of all this.

"He was safely removed and taken to St. Mungo's. Mr. Potter will be joining him. I think his ribs have been bruised. But this is another matter altogether. You will report to me before breakfast to discuss the outcome of this situation, and any information she gives you. Take good care of her, Severus." Severus gave Dumbledore a discerning look. He was already trying to keep himself together, but his eyes gave him away, earning a nod and slightly raised brow from the Headmaster. "Good night." That said, Albus went just as quietly as he'd come. He would remain awake, but his confidence in Snape wouldn't falter. He had proven himself more than competent, and his knowledge of such works would warrant a closer watch. If the Ministry did come, Dumbledore would not mention Snape's vast knowledge in Casting.

"You will let me go or suffer the consequences of…," the witch said when they were alone.

"I am not concerned with such. 'We each owe a death,'" Severus spat. He reached a hand into his pocket and tossed a folded piece of parchment at her feet. "I could have the Ministry here in mere seconds, if I wanted… watch you writhe as the Dementors breathe in the very thing that makes you. You could rot away your years in Azkaban, reliving your worst nightmares," he said, his eyes dark, his expression condescending. The parchment caught flame, and Scarlette watched it burn. Though she was frightened beyond words, the relief she felt as he set the evidence aflame was undeniable. "For one with such a mark on her neck, you are certainly not up to par. If you were _anywhere near_ as talented as your predecessors, you'd have known to totally disarm me and render me useless—as you are now—when you had me down the first time. Very… useful… maneuver, if I may say so, myself."

"…What do you intend to do with me, since you obviously have no intentions of sending me off to this Azkaban?" She asked, brows furrowing at the possibilities that lay ahead.

He kept his wand pointed at the witch whose breathing had slowed. Her palms were still plastered to the cool marble floor, and her fingers were splayed out. His eyes danced over the berry colored nails that had grafted themselves to the floor, and at the delicate ankhs made of silver that wrapped themselves around her ring fingers. He had never noticed how small a woman's hands could be; let alone how beautiful they were. He admired the fact that such skillfully manicured hands could do so much damage with minute effort. "I may seem kind for doing you this favor. Don't even entertain the thought. I have my own… agenda at work concerning the likes of you. Never, in all the days of my miserable existence… have I ever come across one of the most revered and enigmatic members of the Mellette Coven… only _stupid._"

At his statement, Scarlette lunged up as far as her arms would allow her, "I am _not stupid,_ you greasy little _swine!_"

"_What_… did you call… me..?" Snape asked, his chin rising in indignation, his brows high and dark eyes full of silent menace. She had stricken a nerve, and the last person to call him a swine was the late parent of that damnable little chit who had been deemed The Boy Who Lived, and James had made Severus's life more than a living hell. He should've known better; she always knew what buttons to press and vice verse.

"I called you _swine_," she hissed, spitting at his feet. Scarlette's heart lodged itself into her throat. In the blink of an eye, the maddened teacher had gripped her jaw tight enough to leave bruises. He was fearsome, enough, and she could see why Potter had been so frightened of him. He didn't look like much, but his hands—God, those hands—as soft and cold as they were, had a vice grip. He was only an inch from her face, and he could practically breathe her in as he locked his menacing gaze with those panic-stricken sea green eyes.

"Understand this… Just because you are a woman does not mean that I will succumb to your charms. I can do no worse to myself, let alone you. I am not without my vices, you troublesome little _piss-ant_, is that clear..?" His voice was low and distant, and his very essence made Scarlette sympathize with his students. She nodded slowly and closed her eyes when he jerked her chin. "You will be indebted to me for the rest of your life. How does that little vow go—_a life for a life..?_"

Scarlette held back the sobs that threatened to wrack her body, "A life is nothing that can be reimbursed, so the price is final, much the same as death. If you should save my life, then my life is yours… because you wanted what I was meant to lose. You showed how much you_** wanted it**_, so to the winner goes the spoils. This is the repayment of a favor that can never truly be reimbursed. Death is not reversible. Therefore, neither is… _my vow._"

"Precisely," Snape sneered before demeaning her. "You are reckless, you are childish, and you are _dense_ beyond all reason—"

"I am NOT! And I will never—"

"Oh..? Really..?" He gripped her chin again, staring at her face as he pointed at it with the other. A faint light illuminated his fingertip, and a soft wind blew the tight ringlets of hair from her forehead. "Then why did you hesitate when you had me right… where… you… wanted me..?" No answer. "_Casting_, as you call it, is not nearly _just_ a dead art. It is an exceptional art, and very few hold the _talent_. I _dare_ say you know what this is..? If I so willed it… I could remodel that _pretty_ little face of yours, turn your skull inside out before you even had a chance to blink back the tears—and crying is for the _meek_. I must express my disappointment, Scarlette; you convinced me of your… mightiness," he said, watching tears begin to run from the corners of her eyes.

"Severus, just let me go."

"_**Master**_… Severus, to you, you impertinent, nonsensical… _weak_… little_ puppy._ You will learn not to be so reckless and dimwitted, much like Potter and his little band of idiots. You will learn not to be so invasive and annoying—" He started.

"But, I—"

He leaned in, brushing his fingertips along the smooth skin of her face, toying with the curls of auburn hair around her ear. He was staring at her with that cold, illegible countenance. He cut her off before she could continue, "And you will learn to _speak_… when you are _spoken to_, much unlike the insignificant nerve-scathing newts, Magi and Jordache. I _cannot_ have someone so _thick_ following me around; it will cast an ill reflection of me."

Scarlette trembled when she felt the warmth of his breath dancing along her most vulnerable spot, cursing her body for betraying her as he whispered into her ear, "You belong to me, now." His silky baritone voice made her tremble, and fear wasn't the only thing to blame. "Unless, of course, you'd prefer to be exiled and hunted by your own coven, you'll repay your debt. And your repayment… starts… _Now…"_

_

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_

_A/N_

_There you have it! I hope you enjoyed it, and if you feel the need (please do), please review! Chapter 4 should be posted soon!  
_


	4. Chapter 4: Trial and Error Pt 1

A/N: I have gone back and expanded on the story. It felt like it was going much too fast, and that's why it's taken me so long to update! The update starts here! So here is chapter 4! Things are getting a little crazy! Thank you to all of my readers! You are all so loved! I hope you all enjoy it, and feel free to leave me a review!

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**Chapter 4: Trial and Error Part I**

The night was long, and Severus was beyond exhausted. He'd dealt with Madam Pomfrey's tugging and prodding at fractured bones and wounds, and watched the same being done to his captive. When they were given clearance, he'd bound Scarlette's hands together and quietly escorted her to his chamber. The room was spacious, and as always, contradicted what everyone thought of him. A very large, thick red rug rested in front of a fireplace. A black couch, decked in decorative pillows, headed it off. The living space was very beautifully done, with walls made of stone and paintings hanging here and there. There were no windows, but this did not stop Snape from hanging deep red drapery on the walls. The design of the place was as lovely, but it was every bit as severe as Severus himself. Scarlette's eyes danced from one place to another before coming to study the rows upon rows of ingredients, each on a shelf—and one could clearly see a wall was dedicated to this only.

Hands unbound, but wand removed from her person, Scarlette pushed her mass of ringlets back over her shoulders. Those sea green hues appeared more cat-like than Severus cared to admit, and the pout of her lips caused a faint tug at the corner of his mouth. The witch walked about quietly, snooping here and there to get a feel for her surroundings. She peeked into a half-open door and nearly gasped at the extravagance of his bedroom: A huge four-post bed rested in the middle. She could clearly see that the mattress was extra thick, and the pillows seemed to call her name. God, she was tired, but her curiosity would allow no such thing to slow her down. Heavy green curtains waited to be drawn as to block out whatever light tried to pierce its way through.

A closet was open, and she could see suits, robes, shoes and a broom. An armoire sat beside a dresser, which was covered in trinkets, vials and a miniature cauldron. A light flickered from a cracked open doorway, and she could only figure it was the bathroom. She could only guess its lavishness! "I am to stay with you," she started, eyes narrowing as she reached to touch a small jar of mugwort. Snape's hand immediately found hers and held it tightly. He towered over her as he always had, and he made her feel small, vulnerable… and yet she could not shake the sense of warmth and safety, though his cool exterior would make anyone feel otherwise.

"You are," he answered curtly. "Don't. Touch. Anything."

"I never would have imagined you living this nicely…"

"You are not the only one who believes my 'nature', as you would call it, is reflected in my personal chambers… It keeps people at bay and averts prying eyes." Severus stepped back to watch her as he mused, "How_ is_ Hazel these days..?"

The sting of the realization hurt more than Scarlette could bear. "She is fine. Still Hazel."

"I see you've improved dramatically. Still no match for me. Pity. For you, I mean."

"I could have—" Scarlette started, eyes narrowing again. Snape's sudden closeness had a profound effect on her bladder.

"_Could_ have… but didn't. You will find that Hogwarts is, indeed, different and will take some getting used to," Severus continued. His eyes flicked to the door she hadn't opened, "Then again, you won't get to see much, if any, of the castle. You will reside here, but your comforts will be limited. In fact, you won't even exist until you are cleared –_if_ you are cleared. I doubt Albus will allow your presence to linger for long. It is highly unprofessional, and we don't need any more whispering among the students than there already is. When Lucius Malfoy hears of this, and I've no doubt that he already has, there will be hell to pay. And now, dear Scarlette," he said quietly, sifting through the numerous vials and jars of liquids and herbs until he found what he was looking for, "indulge me."

Scarlette stared the vial of deep amber fluid in his hand. "What is that?"

Snape smirked down at her, "Veritaserum."

"You said I did not have to drink if I answered honestly."

"And so I did… however, I do not wish for doctored truths. I want to hear everything. Albus Dumbledore is your only saving grace if you hope to get out of this." Snape sighed, his hands coming to rub gingerly at his throbbing temples at the thought of another Penseive. Scarlette crossed her arms as she pondered this.

"I will be able to return home?" She asked.

"No," Severus chuckled, "of course not." It was something she had seen only once of him, and it was much the same now as it had been, then: cold, amused, but cold and tinged with spite. "I find your child-like sense of hope… amusing. I mean to have you cleared so that you may be of legal… service… to me while we are here. Come. Indulge me. I am _sure _you've nothing to hide."

"Fine. No personal questions…"

"That depends…"

"Severus!"

"Scarlette." There was a measure of silence between the two, and both had tempers hot enough to boil someone's blood from a distance.

"Promise me this," she started, taking the vial from his hands, "you will be as honest with me as I am with you."

It was all Snape could do not to roll his eyes as he answered slowly, "Scarlette, these are hardly like the days of old. We are not children anymore, nor are we naïve adults looking to satisfy our many," he paused, his dark eyes greedily taking her in, "…_curiosities._"

Scarlette's face hardened, but her eyes revealed how she felt. "Severus, for the love of God, have mercy. I will tell you anything you want, but please, please… I can't answer that."

"Is the wound that deep..?" he asked, his expression growing colder, unreadable as to keep her on edge. Her eyes begged him not to ask anything more than was necessary. "Really..? I make no promises, Scarlette, but I will try."

*****D|C*****

**PSM #1**

**[PSM = Private Snape Moments!]**

He awoke with a long yawn, arching his back as he welcomed the relaxing feel of his bed as he stretched languidly. He preferred to lie in bed for a few before he got up to go and wash. As usual, he would prep himself for another day of dealing with students who failed to follow directions, or those who just didn't care for the art. Severus closed his eyes as he ran his fingers along his scalp, mussing his greasy black hair. It needed washing once again, but the Muggle shampoo seemed to be doing wonders.

_Preserve… your sexy_…_ atrocious words to put on a bottle_, Severus thought to himself. The dark skinned Muggle needed an attitude adjustment, but she had pulled his hair to get a feel. She suggested this ridiculous Shaun D. Giddy Brush's "Unpardonable Dander" two-in-one shampoo for oily hair, and its fellow "Unpardonable Detangler" spray. She'd slipped a sample of the Muggle cologne into his bag after making a purchase. He remembered the smell, and wrinkled his nose at the thought. It really was "Unpardonable." He found himself wanting to laugh at the preposterous arrogance Muggles had when it came to their products, or their looks.

Despite the state of his hair, it was uncommon for him to wake not feeling the usual misery that seemed to loom over him. He hadn't felt like this in a long time… He felt good this morning, good enough that he would consider taking it easy on Potter. _Potter! _His eyes snapped open; last night had happened. It was not a dream, and the sudden movement beside him confirmed it. The mass of auburn ringlets looked like cinnamon spread out behind her. The golden brown skin had been lightly spotted with freckles, a feature he'd never noticed before when she was younger. Her face was relaxed, but he could see the content smile on her face. Her eyelids fluttered, and he knew right then that she was dreaming. The heavy black comforter had slid away from her form; Severus snatched his wand from the table.

He summoned his robe and slowly sat up as not to disturb her. He slid into the black robe and headed to his bathroom; he couldn't help wincing at how much his pale skin contrasted against the black. Rolling his eyes, he paused and took a moment to turn back and stare at her. He knew he had locked her away in the spare room beside him –and he was thankful to Dumbledore for such allowances, though a sick student in dire need of a potion rarely occurred. Snape knew spells and potions no one else had ever known about—because _he_ created them. It was maddening to see she had gotten out!

Just when had she crawled in beside him? Had she done anything while he was asleep? And what was wrong with the sofa he'd provided in the extra room? It exceeded the comfort of Muggle sofa-beds by far, and it was beyond spacious. But here she was, curled up and sleeping soundly on his bed. He'd been tempted to ask her a question, a question whose answer he was curious to hear. Severus knew that that particular inquiry would cause her to distrust him, not that she didn't already! Or did she, seeing that she was sleeping in his bed?

And such thoughts! He thought he'd escaped them, but she was here to remind him that he was still made of flesh and felt things. It ruined his image of a Severus turned stone! He wanted to take advantage of her something terrible… At that, the potions master shut the door behind him and bewitched it so it could not be opened. He would dwell in the comfort of the grandiose tub, basking in a shower of cold water until he was under control.

Leave it to Scarlette… to test neglected boundaries.

After a satisfying shower, he stepped out of his bathroom while pulling his robe tighter about him. His wand was still at the ready, and Scarlette was still sound asleep where he'd left her. He had to go see Dumbledore, and breakfast would be served soon. Damned if he would leave her free to roam about his chambers while he was away! Not wanting to turn his back on her, he summoned his clothing and went out to his front room to dress himself. He dressed hurriedly; keeping his eyes on her to be sure no sudden trickery was abroad. As he bent down to pull his socks on, his hair spilled forth, and the smell of the detangler was rather… pleasant.

He'd had the pleasure of seeing Muggle women in salons getting their hair tended to, and their methods of drying it were loud and startling. Witches would do the same, but their method of drying it was done like everything else in the Wizarding world… by wand. They always seemed to leave relaxed with a head of bouncing, silky hair. It was time Severus found out what the big deal was.

He looked back into his room to make sure Scarlette was still asleep, and when he saw her still lying there, he made his way into the spare room's bathroom. Staring at himself in the mirror, he scowled as he aimed the tip of his wand at his dripping hair. Warm air roared in his ears as he magically dried it, but he found that he was enjoying the feel of his hair flying every which way, and his scalp feeling as if a million fingertips massaged it. His dry hair felt magnificent, a way he hadn't felt it all his life. Maybe Muggles _were_ good for something. He flipped his hair, and scowled as he pictured himself in a Muggle commercial…

'L'oreal… Because you're worth it,' commercial Severus said, a severe look masking his face as he proudly flipped his hair back. The potions master was horrified at the things that would pass through his mind at the most random times! He couldn't suppress the shudder! Enough was enough.

Tightening his jaw, he walked out of the spare room and flicked his wand. The door to his bedroom slammed in unison with the door he'd just walked out of. Muttering the enchantments into place, he turned on his heel and exited through his portrait, making sure to secure its enchantments. It was time to get the day started, and maybe a cup of coffee would do him wonders before he spoke to Dumbledore concerning the pestilence in his chamber… and convince a House Elf to bring her meals throughout the day.

*****D|C*****

The days were riddled with insolence and futility, and his evenings with vindictiveness and impiety. If Severus considered his life to be lackluster before, he had more than enough excitement for this lifetime and the next. Days passed quickly and soon melded into weeks. Much to his chagrin, Dumbledore had only gotten slivers of information on his captive, and her antics were getting the better of him. By now Potter and Malfoy had returned to their classes, and life resumed as it had been before—for them. Lucius had brought in The Ministry and had the school searched for "Karma." Narcissa stood proudly by his side, holding her son's hand as the search took place. Fudge and the Aurors left the school, their search unsuccessful, and Lucius Malfoy red in the face. He would, no doubt, be ridiculed by The Dark Lord and his fellow Death Eaters for chasing 'fate.'

Draco returned to class to sit by his fellow Slytherins. By now, Umbridge had made her home here, and was beginning to wreck every life she could. Harry was already in a bad mood, and his hand hurt, reminding him not to tell lies. Ron, Hermione and Roselyn gathered at their usual table in Potions. Roselyn stood by Harry, snaking her arm around his waist to give him a playful squeeze. She toyed with a lock of her white-blonde hair and flashed him a sly look with those green eyes. Harry smirked, knowing precisely what it meant, but his mirth was smothered as soon as the door to the classroom slammed. All eyes were on the potions master, and his glossy, bouncy black hair was not unnoticed. Snape seemed slightly out of his normal character, and Ron nudged his best friends when he saw their professor slide a hand over his face and look up at his students.

As far as they had known, Snape was always sallow and thin… But now, he seemed to have gained some color and looked healthier than they'd ever seen him.

**[Lunch]**

"That git's got to be gettin' it from somewhere!" Ron said, just before he stuffed his mouth with a roll. "'Ook at 'im! Ei'ver 'e's 'avin' fun wiff McGonagall, or 'e's—"

"Ronald! That is **_disgusting!_**" Hermione yelled as she slammed her books on the table. Harry and Ginny seemed to share her sentiments by their wrinkled faces and sneers. Roselyn Magi politely excused herself to walk to the Slytherin table and feast with her brother Travis, and her best friend Jean—Hermione was sure she'd gone because she didn't want to hear about their potions teacher and any possible lascivious acts he may have committed. Fred and George piped in, one twin on each side of Ron.

"It's either that," George quipped.

"Or the man's a ruddy lush," Fred finished.

"Did you see the color in his cheeks?"

Ron swallowed hard, "So what, are you saying he brews Firewhiskey? Not bloody likely!"

"How do you _live_ with yourself?" Ginny quipped.

"Stop it!" Hermione growled, throwing down a piece of turkey.

"C'mon, Granger, look at him!" George chimed, motioning the potion's master; he'd noticed the uproarious behavior and pulled the spoon from his mouth. Granger eyes were glued to him, and George had to give her a gentle shake to pull her from her sudden trance. When he looked up, Snape looked at his spoon, looking as if he'd eaten something foul, and dropped it back into his bowl of chocolate pudding.

Hermione turned her head away from Snape, sure that he had been staring at her. She felt exposed, like a secret had been spilt and she had no way of cleaning it up. In fact, she could have sworn he was going to get up and come over to where they were just to demean them. With such mental images, it was the last thing she wanted. She had completely turned red, ears included. Fred continued, glancing up at the teachers' table as Snape glanced over at them disgustedly, and chatted quietly with Professor Sprout. "See, Granger… He's a **_bloody man!_**" George growled like a barbarian.

"Rahhhh!" Fred growled, following his twin up and eliciting more laughter from the Gryffindors.

"Oi, you two!" Ron started, catching the intense stare from Umbridge. When they had quieted down and Umbridge looked away, he continued, "And how do you explain how healthy he looks, Hermione? Are you saying that slimy git's decided to just include some… workout or something?"

Hermione grit her teeth as the color drained from her face. She shut her eyes and shook the images from her head. "No! That's **_not _**what I'm saying! Harry! Help me, please!"

"What do you want me to say, Hermione? As… revolting as it sounds, he might be right. I mean, how do you explain his hair?" Harry shrugged, suppressing a shudder of distaste.

"He's right, Granger," Fred chuckled.

"The ol' Poison Pastor's got a pep in his step!" George said. A good portion of the Gryffindors had been listening in, and at George's statement, burst into a fit of laughter.

"See!" Ron exclaimed. Hermione gathered her belongings and stood up abruptly. "Where are you gone off to?"

"To the library… at least no one will be waiting to _disgust_ me!" She said, a full frown gracing her brow as she practically ran from the Great Hall. No one had noticed Ginny standing up until Fred, George, and Ron each received a harsh swat upside the head. Ron bit into another roll and glared at his younger sibling.

"Ugh! Pigs, the lot of you!" Ginny said.

"Wha'! I'm 'ust, fayin'!" Ron said.

"You're all gits… Sometimes, I can't even believe you're my brothers." She said, turning to walk away.

Ron swallowed hard again, "Hey, where are _you_ going, now?"

Ginny rounded on him, "Somewhere else! I'm too sick to my stomach to stay here! You do realize that I have to face **_him_** in Potions, after this? Thanks, _Ronald!_ Ugh, repulsive!"

"Oi, that one's a wild card, eh, Harry?" Fred asked, his twin mirroring the grin on his face as they sat.

**[Fourth Floor Hallway]**

She was grateful that hardly anyone was in the halls. Severus' charms had proven most difficult. Scarlette had failed to release the one on the portal out. She'd tried Apparating, but it was obvious that this room, or the school as a whole, did not allow it. When one of the House Elves appeared in her room with a plate of delicious looking food, Scarlette could not wait to eat. If she ever hoped to escape here, she'd put her appetite aside. House Elves were incredibly useful creatures when one was just sweet enough…

And here she was, in nothing but one of Snape's black towels, looking wildly about for anyone she'd have to render helpless. She didn't know where she was going, and she didn't care. All she saw were steps leading upward and downward, changing directions every minute, it seemed. She paused as she ascended one flight, looking down to see a red-haired girl staring up at her. The air seemed to come alive, portraits talked among themselves and shouted, "What are you doing in a towel, girl?"

She recognized that one… she'd been the one weeping to her failed victim, Harry Potter. The stairs suddenly shifted, and she held on until they stopped moving. Eventually, she wound up on the fourth floor, searching every door in sight. Upon reaching the bathroom, she decided to take a much needed rest. She sat in a stall for a few minutes, combing her fingers as best as she could through those thick, tight curls. She had to figure out a way to get out of here. She was sure Severus would come up to check on her as he always had when he had a few minutes to himself.

A heavy sigh and the sound of books landing on the floor a couple of stalls down startled her. Her opportunity had just presented itself in the form of a student. She quietly lowered her feet to the floor and crept out of her stall, being sure to guide its door shut to make no noise. Scarlette waited patiently for the student to finish what she was doing, and after a flush, the door opened revealing a bushy-haired girl whose shriek was silenced. The witch pulled her hands away from the sides of the student's face. Hermione Granger crumpled to the floor, and her wand was used to bewitch the entrance to the girls' lavatory.

In short moments, Scarlette swung Hermione's bag over her shoulder and picked up her books. The skirt was tight around her waist, and flared around the swell of her hips. The shirt was a little snug up top, but so long as the sweater stretched over her, she wouldn't worry about the buttons popping. The only thing that fit her correctly was Hermione's shoes and her school robe. She checked herself out in the mirror, adjusting the red and gold tie around the collar of her shirt. Scarlette threw her head back and laughed as she mocked the American students: "I guess I truly represent!", she giggled, her accent thickened with pride. She covered the girl with the black towel she'd worn up here, and removed the charm she'd placed on the door.

Much to her dismay, Ginny Weasley stood just outside the door with her wand at the ready. Sea-green eyes met warm brown ones, and the duel was short lived. Ginny flew across the hall and hit the wall hard enough to render her unconscious. Her wand clattered on the floor, and an invisible force pulled her across and into the bathroom as Scarlette made sure the hall was clear. Ginny's wand wound up in the Island Witch's hands, and soon, Ginny's clothes were removed and shredded. Grunting, she cast the girl's school robe atop her body and laid her beside Hermione. She took her shoes, and proudly exiting the bathroom to make her way to the Grand Staircase, she tossed the Weasley girl's shoes over the side and escaped the fourth floor through trial and error.

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A/N

Okay! I hope you enjoyed the new chapter 4, loves! Let me know what you think, good, bad, or indifferent! I love hearing from you all!


	5. Chapter 5: Trial and Error Pt 2

**A/N:**

**Finally! A new, updated version of the original chapter 5! Okay, I suppose I had better start adding these:**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in the Harry Potter series. All original characters (names and some spells, but those will be in bold) belong to me.**

**Anywho, please enjoy! And leave me a review!**

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**Chapter 5: Trial and Error Part II (The Magical Line-Backer)**

He sat beside the Headmaster, his appetite officially dwindled to nothing. Some of his students really did disgust him, and with such things to bear in mind, he kept them at a distance. Even the ones who sought to kiss up for whatever reason were kept at arm's length. He was sure one or two of the students from his house had little schoolgirl crushes on him. Severus grit his teeth and swirled his spoon around in his pudding. He caught Dumbledore staring idly at him from the corner of his eye, and not wanting to give himself away, forced another spoonful of chocolate pudding down his throat.

The doors to the Great Hall swung open at an alarming speed, causing a sea of heads to turn. Luna Lovegood stood looking as alarmed as her brows could manage. To Severus, the odd Ravenclaw really did look quite scared. Her small voice echoed across the clinking and scraping of utensils and uproarious voices, silencing them all.

"Someone, come quick! They've been hurt!" she yelled as loud as she could. All of the teachers stood at once, and students instantly began to crowd the entrance to see what the trouble was. Surely their ears must be itching for a source of gossip to divulge over dinner, Severus thought disgustedly. A soft chiming of a sickeningly sweet voice silenced everyone again.

"You will all be seated… at once." Umbridge stated, her smile as pristine as could be. Severus gave her a withered look, and Albus only furrowed his brows before ignoring her to press on.

"Dear child, what has happened?" his strong voice rang out.

"The fourth floor girls' lavatory, Professor! Please, Hermione and Ginny are up there!" Voices started whispering again. Harry and Ron exchanged looks before rising quickly to dash out of the Great Hall before they could be stopped. Professor McGonagall traced their steps with surprising speed. Several students made to rush and follow, but Professors Sprout and Flitwick put a quick stop to it. Dumbledore and Snape shot up from their seats. As the Potions Master made to follow the Headmaster, a rather forceful tug kept him in place. He pulled at his robes, supposing he'd somehow gotten them caught beneath the leg of his seat, but an adamant tug forced him to look back.

A house elf stared up at him, fear evident in his large green eyes as he backed himself beneath the table to keep from being seen. Professor Sprout was far too busy rounding up students from where she stood to notice, and so Severus frowned at the little creature that held a heaping bowl of chocolate pudding.

"What is it, Crowley?" he asked, his dark, hollow gaze surveying the students as order returned to the Great Hall.

"The Mistress, Sir…"

"What of her? If she has decided to forego her dessert, then put it back and I will force her to eat it." He said matter-of-factly, but the trembling House Elf only looked away in terror. "What is it..?" Severus pressed.

"She's… she's _gone!_" He wailed, dropping to his knees to cry and punish himself for failing Severus. The Potions Master would have none of it, eyes smoldering as he grabbed the sobbing elf's shoulders and shook him.

"Stop your crying. Back to the kitchens with you," he sneered, more angry that she had gotten away than at the little creature that disapparated. He pushed his seat in abruptly and turned, freezing on the spot when he came face to face with an anxious Albus Dumbledore.

"Severus..!" He said, turning back to his gossiping students. He placed the tip of his wand to his neck, and his deafening voice overpowered any noise within the Great Hall. "SILENCE! As you've heard, we have a very serious situation at Hogwarts. You will all remain in the Great Hall, and you will all be accounted for under the scrupulous supervision of Professors Flitwick, Sprout and Umbridge! If any one of you steps out of line, the consequences will be dire." He said, storming from the Head Table with Severus in tow. Once the doors to the Hall were closed and the two men alone, Albus met the Potion Master's gaze with a dark look. "What was that..?"

"Headmaster, I must move quickly. I've not a shadow of doubt in my mind that Scarlette is the cause of this."

"I will address Miss Granger and Miss Weasley. Do not fail, Severus. I cannot promise you that I can stop Delores or Cornelius should she get away or be captured by other means… and our lives will be at much greater peril."

*****D|C*****

**Scarlette**

The fresh air was welcomed into her expanding lungs, and released in the form of a heavy sigh. She grasped the strap of Hermione's bag tight enough that her hand felt as if it would go numb. Throngs of students walked past her as she stood still in the courtyard, and deciding that she would meet uncertain peril at the hands of Severus, walked briskly to blend in with the students. Scarlette was sure she would get away with no distractions, but an arm slid around her shoulders. She stopped abruptly, grasping the arm that sought to embrace her. The air stood still, a cold, threatening chill causing the hair on the backs of students' necks to stand on end. The student was tall and slender, his dark hair hanging over his brown eyes as he stared down at her. Shock was written on his face as he stared at her and tore his arm away from her menacing grasp. Scarlette's hand came to her side as she watched wary students glance their way and scatter.

"S'only me, Seraphine! What's got you all mental?" he asked, narrowing his eyes. He looked her up and down and frowned. "When did you charm your eyes and hair that color..?"

"I did no such thing," Scarlette said, her face flushed with fury.

"Relax, I was going say it looked nice. You, uh… alright..?"

"You ask many questions, young man," she said, her expression settling into one of pure malice, with a sinister smile that caused the young Ravenclaw to recoil.

"Michael! Why are you bothering her? She's probably late to class like we are! This is no time to hit on pretty girls!"

"Michael, is it..?" Scarlette tasted the name, fully conscious that this child was well aware of the danger that stood before him. A young woman, about half a head shorter than Scarlette, stood a few feet from Michael. Her thick black curls billowed about her softly crafted face. Her soft brown skin seemed to pale when she felt Scarlette's menacing presence, and her own essence seemed to permeate the air around them. Sea green eyes met pale gray ones, and like canines sizing each other up before engaging with tooth and nail, slowly approached the other.

"Go to class, Michael," Seraphine Cartwright said. Michael looked from his friend to the witch, clearly startled at the uncanny resemblance between the two, but Scarlette was warmer in color and complexion where Seraphine was cool. But he had to be honest with himself, despite his fear; he knew Seraphine was hardly a match for the one he had mistaken her for.

"No, I'm not bloody going anywhere, _Phoenix_," he said, placing his hand on her shoulder. "Who the hell are you?"

Scarlette's smile widened as she took in the sight before her. She found it cute, this school love, that was evident between the two. "I tell you what," she said softly, her strong accent adding to the mysticism and promise of her words, "I let you go… and you survive d'is encounter, an' live t'tell d'e tale to your children… Or, Seraphine is up in arms, and you truly learn d'e terror of Our Ways."

"_Another one_, but you're not like the rest, not like us at all," Seraphine interjected, her eyes piercing Scarlette.

"Then let it be known that we are far from equal, child. Do not make me to chastise you. The safest thing for you to do is, go to class and ne'er speak of our happening upon each other. Right..? Michael?" Scarlette stared directly into his eyes, and his intimidation seemed to be answer enough for her inquiry.

"That, Madam, would be… the most foolish thing I could do." Seraphine was beginning to tremble.

"It's the wisest, in _your _case…"

"It doesn't matter! Michael, go and get someone," Seraphine growled as she slowly brought her hands up and extended her slender fingers. Scarlette frowned, her face aghast with disappointment.

"Put your hands down," Scarlette demanded. In an instant, the air was calm, the thickness of two angry Casters dwindling to nothing. The Island Witch lifted her chin, staring down at the young woman who dared raise her hands to her. To Seraphine, she resembled a firm, and frustrated parent whose patience had finally been tried, and she couldn't help lowering her hands when the older woman began to speak. "I have no desire to war with you. Hurting you is the last thing I want. While I have no doubt that a child Caster could do some harm, I do know that you all are foolish and reckless, believing that whatever power you wield is greater than any force on Earth. Y' are nothing but a flea, and you are far out and away from your Element," Scarlette said, crossing her arms. She would not do battle with Seraphine, as she had already infected her with the realization that Scarlette was, indeed, very right.

"I was one of you, once. You are an emotional wielder, throwing everything y' have e'ry which way! And since you have no true direction in what you are doing, you are in no place to call the shots round here. You are a Ravenclaw, I gather, from your badges. Supposed to be so smart… **_Tch._** If I was in your position, I wouldn't even **_dare_** to quarrel with me… Now go to class." Spinning on her heel, she darted from whence they stood, leaving a worried Michael staring after her, and a dejected Seraphine staring down at the palms of her hands as if they were broken wands.

She continued running, not at all certain of where in Calypso's name she was going, but she was determined to find her way and get out. She knew that, just as soon as she was beyond the school boundaries, she would be able to simply apparate back to her London flat. There, she would pack her things and prepare to explain to her mother why she had failed to honor her contract. Scarlette frowned at herself as she continued running, coming across a rock strewn path that came to a pumpkin patch and a disheveled looking hut; if she was supposed to be some sort of heartless killer, why had she been so merciful to those children..?

Then again, she thought, perhaps her heart went out since she'd already been confronted by an irate Harry Potter when she'd last escaped earlier that October. He was such an engaging child, but damn it all, he could be stupid. Choosing his battles wisely was certainly not a strong characteristic of his. All in all, she admired his gall, and their awkward friendship began there. All it took was a glass of water offered to an exhausted Scarlette, an honest apology, and the rest was history.

_In her time of desperation, Harry had even gone through the trouble of slipping his Invisibility cloak over her that same day. She remembered sitting by him in front of the Black Lake. He had warmed her heart when he explained that he knew what it was like to do things he had no choice but to do, bound by what he called, "fate", what her mother called, "destiny." She had listened to him ask questions concerning his failed usurping, and she satisfied his inquiry with carefully doctored answers. The trade-off was simple, but the act would prove to be impossible: Get her out of Hogwarts._

_Unfortunately, Umbridge had her hands in almost everything Harry knew. With her volunteering kiss-ups from Slytherin, and Ron, Hermione and Draco being prefects, the Marauders' Map really was no help. There was no way to get to Hogsmeade with so many people walking about, and after curfew, Severus would be raging about looking for her—and just as they neared the hideous one-eyed witch statue, Severus suddenly appeared on the map—from thin air, it seemed. Scarlette, having promised Harry she would make sure he didn't get any legal troubles because of her, whipped off the Invisibility Cloak and covered the latter with it. Severus had looked up just in time to see her as she gave him a nervous smile and she was roughly escorted back to his chamber and magically bound until morning._

She shook the memory from her mind, and the nostalgia that came with it. Running just past the hut, she ran into the dense forest behind it and paused just behind a thick Birchwood tree. She leaned against it as a wave of nausea and dizziness hit her. It was all Scarlette could do not to collapse where she stood. She wished that she had eaten when Severus had sent the house elves up with platters of food. She was desperate for chocolate, desperate for the magic in such a delicious treat to nourish her depleting reserves. She would never admit that she did not wish to waste what little strength she had on Seraphine. The Forbidden Forest, she'd heard Severus say, was full of as many magical conundrums and monstrosities as there were wonders.

She knew the place was dense as she had come in the same evening the students returned. The barriers hadn't been put in place just yet, so she couldn't be sure what all awaited her. She knew they were powerful, though, since it was a school with students living on the campus. Not far in, she saw her way out: the ebony skeletal frames of ghastly Thestralls could barely be seen in the distance. Several students were busy tossing slabs of meat their way, and she was sure it was a class… The half-giant man that seemed to be made of muscle and hair towered over them and watched as the hesitant students tossed slabs of meat to them. Most of them, she gathered, couldn't even see them…

_Oh, for the days of innocence… How I mourn these days of innocence lost,_ she thought.

Scarlette let Hermione's backpack hit the ground. She was grateful that the ground was covered heavily with moss and foliage, thus smothering the sound of the young girl's books. She took a deep breath, knowing that she would have to contend with Hagrid if she didn't run fast enough. She was still a good distance from the gamekeeper and his class, and she took off, sprinting toward them at an alarming speed. God help her if she fell…

*****D|C*****

**Snape**

Traversing the school grounds was beyond frustrating. Locating one person on such a vast campus was like searching for a tiny owl in a dense forest: unless he had a dose of Felix Felicis, it just wasn't happening. Severus was near desperate for a stroke of luck. Setting off at a brisk walk, straying students suddenly went rigid at the sight of him, their newfound destination being out of his line of view. He was glad to have this effect on students, although at times, it was trying at best. He still hadn't forgotten the seventh year Ravenclaw he'd questioned. He had been in the midst of making his rounds, looming over tense shoulders, staring coolly into cauldrons and sniffing idly at the concoctions therein. He stopped at one, and decided to test the student's knowledge of brewing.

"Why is gerdy root _not _added to this potion, Miss Waldstram?"

Lucia Waldstram, a girl of nervous disposition (around _him_, he suspected), lifted her blue gaze from the bubbling silver potion in front of her. The blush left her cheeks as she stuttered, "w-we… W-we were supposed t-to… add _g-gerdy root_?" Snape's silence sent her into a frazzled state, and she suddenly clutched her chest and began gasping sharply for air.

She was rushed immediately to the medical ward, and later diagnosed with a simple panic attack. Poppy flew at him like a swarm of angry bees from their hive. He regarded her chastisement with an indignant sniff and an unreadable expression. Thankfully, lunch had commenced in the Great Hall…

And now, here he was, standing in the courtyard where a student tried to soothe an inconsolable Seraphine Cartwright. If there was anything Severus detested and felt more uncomfortable around than the late James Potter, it was _women and tears._ He never could stand it when his mother cried, and when Lily cried, he hated himself for not being able to stop the source of her pain. Since then, women and their tears, to him, were always like wolves bane to a werewolf. He swept silently on, traversing the rolling hills, and rock-strewn path that led to Hagrid's _most unsanitary_ hut. He sped off into the thick forest greenery, his wand at the ready… when he saw her. She'd darted right past him without even seeing him! Damn, she was fast, but Severus still had the speed and the newfound energy of a teenager!

He was sure he looked ridiculous, though he welcomed the wind in his hair. His face hardened with determination as he gritted his teeth and darted after her. It was like running a race, and as soon as he was nearly beside her, he ran right at her, taking her down and rolling at break-neck speed. He was beyond grateful for the moss that carpeted the ground, thus cushioning the blow. Groaning, he pushed himself off of her and looked around, brushing away the dirt, leaves, and twigs that had gotten caught in his hair and robes. Scarlette lay on her back, her eyes bleary as she stared listlessly at the afternoon sky peeking through the heavy canopy of green.

"You left me no choice," he said, bending down to pick up his wand and pull her up. Scarlette shook her head wildly, the auburn ringlets still held wayward leaves and branches that had gotten tangled in the mass. To Severus, she looked like a defiant fairy. Suddenly aware of what happened, she made to scream, but he would have none of it as he came around to cover her mouth and pull her back against him. "_Don't_… they'll hear us," he said, turning her toward the class a ways off. Scarlette rounded on him, and the air was thick with the familiar essence that was her raw capacity. He found himself sliding back, blocking twigs that had sharpened themselves, and deflecting leaves with razor-sharp edges.

He backed away as he did this, not wanting to get her too excited, but he wasn't about to let her best him and get away. Rocks soon joined the onslaught of projectiles, and as she walked forward, the air was permeated with her rage—and great clumps of earth had stricken him, crumbling on impact. Severus felt the wind being knocked out of him as he stumbled backward.

"You had a choice… You _always_… had a choice… Severus," she said slowly. "I just want to go home. I _need_ to go home..!"

The corners of his mouth rose gingerly, and those dark, endless eyes lowered in amusement as he listened to her. She was obviously distraught, but it just seemed odd that someone who owed him a debt that could not be repaid could suddenly attempt to flee before she'd begun to pay it. He hadn't asked a thing of her. The only thing he desired of her, quite literally, was to sit pretty and be quiet whilst he and Dumbledore figured out a way to work things out. He'd gone through hell and back for her thus far. He'd even suffered through shopping at Wizarding stores and Muggle stores alike to purchase clothing for her, but after the constant battles that ended with her clothing being torn to shreds, Severus removed any and all coverings—except his robe and towels—and went about his days.

She was a sight, yes—and an enjoyable one at that—but he simply didn't have the time to expend on her, not with the Dark Lord consistently prying into his mind for information. Worse yet, Severus had to protect his knowledge of and history with Scarlette… And here she was, this arrogant, ungrateful woman trying to get away from her newfound Master? She was as bad as Potter on his good days! Surely, he could not be that dreadful, he thought, shoving her back and pushing her against a tree. She would have none of it, though. She made it clear by casting a stone at his head with that damnable magic of hers. Severus just barely had time to leap out of the way of the massive stone. Angrily, he sent a rotting log her way, and she stopped it just them same…

And then she was going down, her body giving way beneath her. Severus just caught her before she hit the bed of moss on which they stood. He slipped his arms beneath hers, holding her up to look at her; her head was back, her eyes glazed and unfocused on the sky. He could see the red crest on the left side of her neck, the tapered points of it lingering on her collarbone. Her mouth hung open and Severus could just make out the vivacious energy that was Scarlette. He issued a heavy sigh as he hoisted her to her feet, but her knees gave in, and he was forced to hold her against him. Growing weary and fearing discovery, he knelt to slide his arm beneath her legs and carry her. Casting an invisibility charm would not work on Hogwarts grounds, and seeing no other option, he flicked his wand and summoned the old broom from his closet. Getting back inside would be a challenge…

*****D|C*****

**Curfew: Snape's Chamber**

Severus stared at the limp form that slept soundly on his bed. He set two small vials of potion down on the nightstand, beside a steaming hot cup of hot cocoa. Behind that was a plate of food he'd had brought up, and he'd cast a spell on it so it would remain as hot as it had been when it arrived. However exhausted he was, he would not let it stop him from taking care of her. He sat gently upon the bed, lifting her head and slowly lowering it to his lap. The auburn curls covered half of her face, and he gingerly swept them aside, and slowly traced her jaw with his knuckles.

He cursed himself for his selfishness, but she was very useful to him… And he found that, through the eight weeks she'd been there, he enjoyed her presence far more than he let on. As he traced her lips with his thumb, he felt the urge to press his lips against her forehead, but this would not be done. The tenderness he harbored was replaced by the harsh disciplinarian he was accustomed to being once she stirred. His dark eyes stared down into her sea-green hues, and he was immediately greeted by her despair.

"You haven't been eating," he said tersely.

"...please, let me… go home." She said, her voice a faint whisper.

"No."

"Please…" she was begging him this time, and he saw the tear slide from the corner of one eye as she said this.

"Scarlette, I cannot allow you to leave."

"Why..?" She whispered her hand moving languidly to accentuate her question.

Severus frowned thoughtfully. "Who is to say that you would not return to attempt to fulfill the conditions of your contract?"

"I won't. I promise, and you _know_ it."

"I don't believe you. You're a spiteful woman, Scarlette. It would be foolish of me to release a hazard like you back into the wild. Worse yet, there are things happening that you couldn't even begin to fathom, and with my knowledge of you, it poses a danger to myself and the rest of the Wizarding world. If you were to land in the wrong hands, Scarlette…" he trailed off, thinking of Lily's fate, and what could easily happen to her, worse off the Wizarding World. "_That_, I could not bear on my conscience. I have asked nothing of you. Why are you so desperate to leave? Have I done nothing right by you? I have bent rules for you, accommodated you, risked more than my life for you—I have risked my livelihood for you. Not just mine, but someone else's."

"Severus, _please…_"

"**_Be quiet_**," he said harshly. His voice softened as he brushed those curls from her face and locked gazes with her. "At times I wish against it, but I am not without a heart. You should know this… far better than anyone. I have asked for your patience and for you not to be so thick, but it seems I am far too kind. Maybe that is the issue, Miss Mellette. I have asked nothing much of you, and so you still rebel. In case I have failed to do so, let me make it clear: You are _mine_,**_ Scarlette Morwenna Ivory Mellette_**. You will stay here in this castle, and you will be of no more trouble to me. You will speak when you are spoken to. You are to be respectful to anyone who questions you, especially Albus. You will be quiet and discrete, and most importantly,_ you will do as I say! _ Oh, and lastly… You will not attempt to escape, or I will be the end of you. Without question or hesitation. I bind you to me by way of your cursed blood. This is final."

A cold wave passed through her, and she bit back a groan of discomfort as she felt the crest on her neck begin to blaze with sudden heat. Her hand flew to her neck, and eyes wide, she stared disbelievingly at Severus. He moved Scarlette's hand, and saw beneath it that a third crescent moon had appeared on her crest. An elegant black arrow pointed to its center. A soft yellow light was emitted from the palms of her hands and slithered up and around her wrists and forearms. She felt the searing heat as it sank into her flesh, branding her for a moment before the flesh healed over.

Scarlette doubled over in agony. It felt as if her body would be crushed beneath the earth from without, but felt like she would explode from within. Her muscles tightened, giving way to the occasional spasm and wracking throughout. The pain seemed to go on forever. She was kissed by mercy when the pain began to ebb, and she fell limp and lay on the floor, beads of sweat forming their salty rivers over her body. The Island Witch went to slowly push herself to a stand and recoiled violently from Snape as he reached out to help her.

"_I hate you…_" She said, her voice quivering as she said it. There was venom in it, venom meant to kill him slowly as she stood to walk out of his room. He caught her wrist and pulled her back, meeting those storming eyes once more.

"Hate me if it makes you feel better. For what it's worth, you're not alone. This, I can assure you," he said quietly. He let his hand fall away from her wrist and closed his eyes. He wouldn't let her know that she'd hurt him. And if she knew, he'd never let her know just how much she had. She was still so soft, and wild and fresh—everything he remembered about her. She'd grown to be much more beautiful than she had been, and the scent of vanilla still clung to her and stayed behind when she left. He breathed it in, relishing in the memories that came with it from afar. He felt a deep sadness akin to that which he'd felt upon Harry's arrival. He'd missed her sorely. Better that she stayed with him, even if it was, selfishly, by force. He knew just as well that, had she gone, she would not have come back to finish what she'd started, but she would've lingered for him—at least, he hoped she would.

He would know if her constant scent lingered nearby. That smell drove him crazy. He didn't know which frightened him more: The Dark Lord, or the fact that he could _still _smell the vanilla on her…

_It had become stronger after all these years…_

_

* * *

_

A/N:

I hope you all enjoyed! Reviews are always a pleasure! Love, love, love!

~Scarlette


	6. Chapter 6: Different Times

A/N: So, once again, I am here to remind my lovely readers that I have changed the story around and went further into detail. Again, it starts at chapter 4, but it gets better! Promise! I hope you all enjoy!

~Scarlette

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**Chapter 6: Different Times**

One night became two, and two days went into a week that hurried into a month. The holidays were fast approaching, and students were carrying on, already infected with the joy that flooded the halls this time of year. Scarlette made a hasty recovery, and was hidden especially well now that Albus was nearly forced from his office. Much to his chagrin, Scarlette refused to say a word to him. They lived in strained silence, estranged to one another, though the Potions Master never thought he'd be the one reaching out. She would sooner turn away from him to stare at a wall when he extended his kindness her way.

She'd even taken to sleeping in her own bed, and never bothered to try breaking his charms. Frustrated, he stopped casting them altogether. She was obedient, though, and always had everything he'd asked her to do done in record time. Potter couldn't _hope_ to touch her. On a cold night in late December, just as Scarlette tossed the last eye of newt into a jar of green liquid, Severus had received word that Dumbledore had been approached. He'd gotten the information he rummaged around the Wizarding world for, and was met with something most pleasantly unexpected. There was not a minute to lose. Severus was in his office just before sunup.

"Good morning, Severus. I take it all was well last night?" Albus asked.

The afternoon had stretched into an even longer evening, and the night was one of the worst he'd had to endure. Sleep was but a distant memory. Grey shadows lingered beneath his eyes as he stared hollowly at Dumbledore. He quietly approached the seat in front of the tear-shaped desk and sank into it. The Headmaster's eyes searched Snape's face for an answer, but the haughty, withdrawn expression spoke volumes. "She _hates_ me," he answered slowly, the corners of his mouth sinking.

"That's unfortunate. Perhaps she will appreciate your efforts in due time."

"I doubt it. She is highly incensed," he said, his voice mirroring that of death.

"So you've done it, then, Severus? May I ask why you hadn't done it sooner? Perhaps there would have been considerably less damage done to the students and to our reputations if you had bound her then?" Dumbledore mused. The Potions Master ignored him and pressed on.

"What… did you find?"

"On the contrary, what _didn't_ I find?" The Headmaster toyed with his beard, and those haunting blue eyes focused on Severus Snape. It was as if he had seen his fresh potential for the first time. His eyes flicked down to the creased paper work before him, and he could see his potions master was trying not to squirm or lean forward to see what he was seeing. Ah, the days of Severus' youth… Such trying times. Yet here he was, on the other side of his desk as a grown man. To Dumbledore, he still resembled the miserably anxious child awaiting his fate. "Oh, she's got impressive credentials, Severus."

Snape's brows furrowed at such good news. "What are you talking about, _impressive credentials_..?"

"You find this odd? If she has done what you say she has, and I have borne witness to some of it, then she must be exceptionally skilled in her art. She is very meticulous, shrewd, she's well-mannered—she's charmed the house elves just fine that she caused quite a stir. She's dexterous to an extremity. She always seems to find a way around your tactics. In fact, she reminds me of _**you**_, I think_**.**_"

"Ridiculous," Severus scoffed.

Dumbledore picked up one of his many tiny trinkets, studying its many folds and hidden features. "Her record is almost spotless. To make matters easier on you, Mr. Malfoy seems to have no memory of anything that took place that night. I suspect," he mused, standing up to pace about his office again, "that someone used a memory charm."

"_How_, Albus? It's ludicrous to think that a memory charm would go _**unnoticed**_," Snape pressed.

"Or… it could be simple trauma. Or, maybe, dear boy, he has simply let it go. Do you want her safe and sound, Severus, or do you want her arrested..? Which is it?"

"Lucius Malfoy seldom _**lets anything go.**_ I expect that he will be keeping an even closer eye on you and me, and especially the wellbeing of his _only_ son! And of course I don't want Scarlette arrested…" The penny finally dropped, and a knowing look spread across Snape's cool exterior as he eyed his Headmaster. "Albus… whatever you are planning—"

"I like to think that my students learn from simple mind exercises, even after they leave." The Headmaster gathered the paperwork on his desk. "I am doing what you asked of me, Severus. You have asked me to grant her amnesty, and it shall be given. Since she has such _fine_ credentials that she has not exercised…"

"What _are_ you getting at, Headmaster..?" Snape asked, his brows creasing as those dark eyes searched Albus's for an answer. Somehow, he knew the great wizard was going to ask for much more than was granted, a habit that was fast becoming regularity… just like pumpkin juice.

"She will earn her right to remain within the walls of this castle, is all."

"I find that these mind games of yours have, long since, ceased to amuse me…"

"We are in need of more teachers, Severus. Her skills are many. She's versatile. You've already proved that."

"Are you _**mad?**_" Snape asked, standing with outrage.

"Perhaps. I am not going to let this go easily. Do you realize the magnitude of what you are asking? I am sure I will be receiving hundreds of owls from parents inquiring on the safety of their children, especially after Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy have raged in my office for weeks. I'm not going to just grant her refuge when she is readily committing crimes under my watch. I have enough going on without her. You've made it clear that Miss Mellette has some form of sentimental value to you—"

"Oh, don't be absurd," Severus murmured, though Albus had hit the nail on the head.

"—_And don't think I haven't noticed._ As it stands now, it is highly unprofessional to have her share your quarters," the Headmaster said quietly. He rested his hands upon the arms of his chair, watching his Potions Master with curiosity. He caught a glimpse of Snape's rare bout of apprehension just before he regained his composure.

"It is an infringement of your contract, and it does not serve as an ideal example for our students. On the other hand, she would be a great asset to the school. She's a great deal… kinder… than you. She has a much softer touch, I think. I find her charming. It would take a load off of your shoulders, Severus. What do you think?"

"Albus, she tried_** to kill**_ Draco Malfoy, and almost succeeded! She nearly killed Jean Jordache, and could you _**IMAGINE**_ if she had done it!" Snape stood there, disgusted at the memory, and the thought of what could have been. "And with my wand, Albus!_ MY wand!_ She cut his face with it! Not a day goes by that I do not fathom the dread that would've followed if she'd been just one inch closer to target and impaled him, he would have been _done in_! That fool boy, thinking that he could defend me like I was helpless!" Albus listened intently. He'd only ever heard Severus this frantic once. Today was different. He truly voiced his concerns over the students, and he was sure the Potions Master wasn't even aware he was doing it. "Traversus Magi is a MADMAN, Albus! You know next to nothing about him! It seems to me, that any friends of yours from ages past are bound to be trouble and the thought of having to speak to him, _again—_"

"While I admit that he does strike an imposing figure, Severus, I assure you that Traversus means well. The man is a Headmaster, himself. And a _fine_ one, at that—"

"Albus, that is FAR from the point! The fact of the matter is, as brilliant as your mind and resources may be, sometimes, I think you go much too far. Did it ever occur to you that, maybe, I didn't intend for things to go this far?"

Albus bypassed the question, his expression bright as the next idea left his mouth, "I think she would be excellent protection for Harry."

Snape looked completely exhausted with exasperation. "Has nothing I said even registered..?"

Silence.

"She tried… to _**abduct him**_, Albus! Need I remind you that she damn near murdered several students of my house while causing the floors to collapse beneath her so she could escape! Once again, that arrogant prat, Potter, thought he was above the law and walked _right into her hands_! This will _not_ go over lightly, not in the slightest."

Dumbledore smiled brightly at Severus. "And did you not come to me begging for amnesty, Severus? Did you not ask me to grant you refuge, and to protect Harry's mother—and family?"

The Potions Master felt his knees weaken, and he slowly lowered himself back into his seat as he looked at the wall behind Albus, "And she still died…"

"Yes, but Harry did not. It was an unfortunate event in all our lives, but look at what has come of it. Now, pertaining to Miss Mellette, the Ministry will come looking. Delores has already come sniffing about. It would be unwise to have an intruder living within the confines of Hogwarts right after this has happened. Apparently, Miss Mellette has a reputation that precedes her. The Board already approved of her, though she will have to go through another audit; they're as impressed as I am."

"…Your optimism both exhausts and baffles me beyond words…" Severus slumped into his seat, bringing a hand up to massage his throbbing temples. "How long has it been since..?" he asked, clearly overpowered by Albus's argument.

"It has been three years, give or take a month, since her last audit. In fact, it was Minerva that sent her an invitation, which she so graciously turned down. It would be wiser and safer for us and the students if she was to teach here. She'd make a fine professor. Do not worry about the students, Severus. I was unaware that you cared so much."

"_**Don't be naïve, Albus.**_ However the case, Miss Mellette is in dire need of constraint and restraint. I am sure the students have started talking already, and such talk has managed to terrorize others… if she hasn't already terrified them _**personally.**_"

"Your reaction certainly speaks volumes. Again, I must ask you not to worry. I dare say that she has already won some of them over during one of her… escapades. In time, the others will learn to forgive her and will see what a wonderful witch and professor she will make. I am going to pull as many strings as I can for you while I am still here. _Especially with you as her auditor."_

"Albus! Surely your logic is faint!"

"I am asking you to trust me. I tend to think clearly when I have the weekend to myself. I'm sure I am not the only one who suddenly has a… burst of energy on a Saturday. Send her up to me after the Great Hall is emptied."

Severus turned to walk away when Albus called softly, "Oh, Severus! Has she spoken to you, yet?"

"Not the tiniest utterance."

"Hm… she'll come around. Good day to you, Severus. I shall see you at breakfast."

*****D|C*****

"Get up, you lazy nuisance. The Headmaster will be expecting you in an hour," Severus said, bursting into his room. The door slammed itself shut behind him, its locking enchantment sealing him in. He reached into the confines of his robes, drawing his wand to ready himself for an attack. His apprehension was mounting. He leaned ahead some, peaking into her bedroom to see if she was still sound asleep. Much to his chagrin, she was not resting on her bed, nor was she in his—a factor that still left him puzzled every morning.

"I have nothing to wear, _Master_," a mockingly sweet voice said, "You have ruined it all, and I cannot return home."

Severus turned on his heel, and his long black hair fanned about his face. Wand at the ready, he inclined his head as he addressed his captive, "right." Incensed at not foreseeing this possibility, he let his hands return to his sides. Those dark eyes took in the sight before him, and realizing that she was quite sheepish, he turned his gaze away from her, staring aimlessly at the wall. "Right… I suppose… no." Snape couldn't possibly ask a student for a handout. He simply had too much pride for it, and it was ludicrous. He'd done some shopping for her, but her 'monthly gift from nature' had to be addressed by Madam Pomfrey—and in the end, she'd scolded Severus, demanding that he take Minerva with him one weekend to be sure Scarlette was well provided for.

"There is nothing wrong with a woman's touch!" she'd chided.

"Are you not allowed to leave school grounds..?" Scarlette hugged his robe closer to her body, fighting off the shivers. She'd combed her hair back with her fingers, and they hung heavily down her back and shoulders, soaking the robe with water. She had no wand, and Snape's room had grown quite cold since the fire had extinguished itself hours ago. The potions master silently cursed himself for having forgotten to oversee such provisions; then again, he was used to being by himself. He wasn't the hospitable type. To make himself feel better, he wouldn't put it past Scarlette to use the fire against him, either.

"I apologize… I was concerned that you'd lost your voice." he stated, risking another glance at her, and taking in the warm color of her skin. He haphazardly flicked his wand, and immediately, the warmth of the fire eased her bout of shivering.

"It's fine. I'm the intruder, remember? I belong to you, now. No need to waste your precious time being concerned for my wellbeing." Scarlette said, the venom in her words striking him. His expression was priceless, and she allowed her sunny disposition to come forth; she couldn't suppress the smile that followed. She knew Severus was feeling awkward, and so was she. It wasn't everyday you wound up captured by a former friend and enemy, and forced to remain in their room whilst they were away.

"You needn't be so acerbic," he answered, his harshness softening just so under her smile. Rolling his eyes, he turned and walked into his bedroom to rummage through his closet for something small enough to fit her. On the floor, beside his bed, were the tattered remains of her burgundy cloak, the pants and the shirt he had managed to set aflame several times during their first duel. The charred remains of everything else he'd purchased for her lay in a pile by his closet. Her bra rested on the edge of his bed, its matching lace counterpart discarded atop her clothes. He found himself fighting off the blood that tried to rush to his face. "Scarlette, you've left your unmentionables," he called out, trying to keep his voice even.

"I'm sorry, _Master_," she called back, the sarcasm in her voice rubbing his nerves. He heard the gentle patting of her feet on his floor.

"Stay… where you are…"

"Master, nonsense. I must retrieve my _brazier and panties_."

Severus rushed to the door before she could enter. His dark gaze stared over her head at a painting on the wall behind her. She wanted to laugh at how quickly he'd turned red, and how his expression seemed to stay so cold. He avoided her smiling eyes as she sought to meet his vision, and she was sure that if he could die of embarrassment, he would have right then and there. Severus held up his hands in submission. "Do not call me Master. You may address me as Severus…"

"Don't like it anymore… _Master..?_" Scarlette teased. She was blocking him from exiting his room, and he was blocking her from entering. An awkward silence passed between the two, and they decidedly came to a stale mate when he stole a glance and met her unwavering stare. "Well?"

"Not… particularly." The color left his face, and he returned to the same pallor she remembered. Something was gone from his eyes, and his frown seemed much more pronounced in the face of her playfulness. Still, Scarlette pushed on, standing on the balls of her toes to press her nose to his. She smiled a light smile as she let the nostalgia take her.

"Do you remember when we used to be like this..? Everyday? I miss it." She purred, reaching up to brush those heavy black strands from his face. Her smile grew when he finally locked gazes with her, but it was a moment short lived when his hand found hers. He held it there, and her heart raced, sure he was going to nuzzle her wrist as he always had before, but his grip grew tight as he tore her hand away from him, and released her like she was something incinerated.

"These are different times," he said coolly, walking around her. Scarlette stood in the doorway, the warmth gone from her as she stared at everything in his room, and nothing. "I've left you something. Dress quickly. A house elf will be here shortly to bring you something to eat. I will send the Head Boy to escort you to the Headmaster's office." Stiffly turning to face his portal, he exited hastily, leaving Scarlette alone. Her chest rose and fell slowly, her breath was uneven, and she fought a losing war with the tears that created their lightly salted rivulets down her face. Indeed, times were different, and her crimes were not to be forgotten, nor would they be easily forgiven.

She cursed herself for her luck, for not doing her research and following her hasty instinctual ways. In a way, she was glad because they led her back to him. In many others, she regretted it. He would never be anything less than cold to her, and now, she was bound to him.

* * *

A/N

Not much to say here, other than, "crazy, huh?" Thank you all for reading! Please leave a review! Chocolate frogs for everyone!


	7. Chapter 7: Submission & Allegiance

A/N: So this is, technically speaking, where I would have left off if I hadn't gone back and beefed up this story! I really hope you enjoy it! Again, there have been some minor changes to help the story along! I LOVE you guys!

~Scarlette

* * *

**Chapter 7: Submission: Allegiance to the Order**

Scarlette devoured the heaping tray of toast and jam. It was followed by a heavy helping of bacon and sausage, a few thick slices of ham and grand omelet that would make the finest of chefs question their work. She washed it down with tea and pumpkin juice, thanking the house elf who had come to feed her. When she was done, the small creature conjured a heaping bowl of chocolate ice cream with fudge rippling over each cream mountain. Chunks of brownie littered the bowl, and it was garnished with a swirl of whipped cream and shaved chocolate. "Compliments of the Potions Master, Ma'am," he bowed deeply. It sent her heart racing; she didn't think he'd cared, but this was much too fancy for a professor who just didn't want to bother.

"Why do you cry, Miss?" he asked, after she had stomached the entire bowl's contents. The house elf extended a handkerchief.

"Thank you," she whispered, wiping her face. "It's nothing. You can go."

"Not so fast, my Lady. Mr. Snape has asked that you be handled with utmost discretion. He has ordered Crowley to hand you this pouch and said, 'this should be enough, unless her incompetence is that obvious,'" Crowley crooned. She held out her hand for the pouch, jaws clenched and eyes narrowed. The house elf retreated slightly, his hands flying up as he braced himself when something on one of Snape's many shelves shattered, and one of his paintings cracked and crumbled to the floor. "Please, Miss, don't hurt Crowley. He is just the messenger!"

"Then finish," Scarlette said, trying her best not to be cross with him. She looked back to see a dense blue-green fluid dripping soundly onto his carpet. She smirked, knowing it would succeed in making him angry.

Crowley's hands still shielded himself in defense as he continued, "then he says, ' say: Head of Slytherin's Office.'"

There was a moment of silence, and the house elf hesitantly brushed his old tattered sheet off. "Is that all?" Scarlette demanded, crossing her legs as she fiddled with the pouch in her hand.

"Oh! Oh, yes, Miss. He says you'll know what to do with it, you will. Crowley is going back to the kitchen now, Miss."

"Crowley..?"

He turned to face her, his blue eyes wide and worried, ears lowered in submission, "yes, Miss."

"Can I… trouble you or one of the others for the same treat later tonight?" Scarlette asked, her expression softening at the small creature's fear. He didn't deserve her callousness, nor did he deserve to be frightened by her. "I promise I won't use you to escape."

Crowley smiled as he addressed her, "Yes, Miss. We will bring you your sweets. Crowley will do it, himself, he will." That said, the nervous house elf snapped his fingers and faded away. Scarlette stood up and sauntered into Snape's room. She couldn't stifle the laughter that came from her upon seeing the outfit he'd lain out for her: a pair of black slacks had been rolled up at the bottoms and pinned. A slender black belt had already been inserted through the belt loops. A crisp white shirt, presumably his _only_ white dress shirt, lay beside the slacks. He'd left one of his black robes for her; she knew in that instant, that it was going to either flow about her ankles gracefully, or it would look like a morose train on a wedding gown. He hadn't touched her bra, which still remained twisted on his bed. She wouldn't put his slacks on without underwear, but the thought of wearing a pair of Severus's boxers managed to appall and amuse her in the same instant.

Dressing herself hadn't taken long. In fact, she liked the way she looked, even though she had to pull the pants up toward her ribcage and tuck the shirt in. She kept the legs rolled up the way he set them, loving how the cuffs were just over her ankles. The heeled boots she'd come wearing were the perfect accent to set it off, and gave her the necessary height to keep his robe from tripping her up. She tore a strip away from her former cloak and used it as a headband to keep that mass of curls back, but she let one linger sweetly along her face. Scarlette peeked into the pouch and rolled her eyes. "Floo powder… of course," she huffed, tossing the contents into the fire Severus had lit before he'd gone. "Head of Slytherin's Office." She stepped through the fire, and nearly tripped as she was thrown out of another fireplace.

The office was dimly lit with a table covered in parchments and three chairs. The walls were covered with shelves with all sorts of jars full of potions, animal bits and herbs floating about. She could see no trace of Severus, though as she began to relax, a silk voice dragged her from her newfound state of comfort. "How ungraceful. You can't even manage to travel through the Floo Network correctly…" She spun around to see Severus leaning in the doorway of yet another portrait, a jaded look washing over her face as he slowly approached her. His expression seemed to mirror hers. "Your ineptitude is staggering."

"Leave me alone, Severus."

"I will, as soon as you cease to humiliate me. Your escort awaits you," he said, walking around her to give her a once over. He had to admit, she cleaned up well, and what she wore was not her own. A young man wearing the school robe waited outside of the portal, and he stood rigidly awaiting her presence out of fear that Severus would ridicule him further. "Be on your best behavior…"

"I am not a child." She retorted.

"And Scarlette…"

"Severus..?"

"Do try not to embarrass yourself." He watched her leave, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts and troubles. He knew she had a temper, and the thought of her teaching at Hogwarts both enthralled and horrified him. The portrait shut itself behind her, and Severus closed his eyes for a moment. "Or me…" Her actions and her behavior would be watched closely. He silently thanked whatever high deity would listen, and he knew he could relax just enough… It was the weekend, after all. As his mind wandered, it came to across the look she'd given him. It was just like Lily again: that stern, set jaw and those green eyes cold and unforgiving. There was no warmth to be found in Scarlette's seas.

"_I hate you,"_ she'd told him just a month before becoming a silent recluse. After telling her Dumbledore wanted to see her, she spoke to him. And just that quickly, he wondered if he would have to beg the great wizard to keep her safe, as well. Severus had enemies… If he had to send her into hiding, would they betray him just to spite him? He couldn't bear the thought.

Minerva McGonagall stood beside the grand statue of a gargoyle. Her long black hair was pulled back into its usual severe bun, and her black hat sat neatly atop her head. Her expression was calm, but her lips were pursed as she set her grey blue gaze upon Bole and the woman he escorted.

"Thank you, Bole. You may go," she said. Minerva cleared her throat as she gave Scarlette a once-over. Clearly, she had come adorned in Severus's clothing. She resembled a child with her hair pulled back by a red headband. She searched those sea-green eyes for any lingering emotions before she finally extended a hand. She smiled, but the smile didn't quite reach her eyes, letting Scarlette know she was not trusted. "Minerva McGonagall," she said, shaking her hand firmly. Scarlette smiled as brightly as she could, and the Head of Gryffindor could clearly see the nervousness in her. "Cinnamon Beatles."

"Cinnamon what..?" Scarlette frowned and canted her head to be sure she'd heard her right.

Minerva turned to face her, "Go on, child. Get in." She hurried Scarlette onto the rotating staircase and watched as it ascended. Alone, brought into a grand hallway before a set of celestial doors, Scarlette hugged her borrowed robes closer to herself.

"Miss Mellette… No hesitation necessary. Please, come in. Have a seat." It was the same voice she'd heard booming at Severus just the other night. Here he was, the source of such words, so gentle, sitting at his desk when she entered. His knowing blue eyes twinkled when he saw her, and she felt like a student when she took a seat across from him. "Good morning, my dear. You're fairing well, I hope?"

The witch felt her breath catch in her throat. She swallowed hard, sinking into her seat as she chewed on her bottom lip. The Headmaster offered a disarming smile, and suddenly, her hands were the most interesting thing in his intricate office.

"Ah! Come, now, I won't bite, although the chocolate snappers will," he continued, pushing a bowl of squirming chocolate insects toward her. "Go on. I'm sure you need them more than I do." Such words caused her to look up at him, her eyes unmoving, her face hardening much like her heart. "Such a peculiar child… Not unlike Miss Cartwright. She started her first year after moving from the States. Perhaps you can learn from her. She was new and every bit as nervous as you at this very moment. She had to make adjustments to the use of a wand, but she's made many friends at Hogwarts and enjoys her stay. She is flourishing nicely. Oh, and the others… they require a decadent dessert, as well. So, you see, we are not of incompetence, nor are we ill-prepared for your stay."

"I have seen that. The atmosphere is… most welcoming," Scarlette mused, folding her hands on her lap.

"I do apologize about your time here, particularly the night you arrived. I'm sure it hurt you much more than Severus, but you must understand that I could not very well let you get away with what you have - and could have - done." Dumbledore's appearance was unsentimental as he looked her in the eye with a dangerous calm. "You, Miss Mellette, are held high in favor. There are only several minute reasons why you are such a well kept secret, and why you are not in Azkaban, having your very spirit wrenched from you by the dementors."

"I am well aware of this…"

"The repercussions of your actions have reverberated. I have had all owls forwarded elsewhere, lest my desk overflow with inquiries from parents and members of the Ministry. What you have done is a most unforgivable crime. You have nearly cost us everything. Minerva was against my decision, but I wanted to see what it is Severus goes on about. I know about your situation, how he saved your life, and how you are bound to him, though he leaves me to question his motives from time to time," Albus said, drawing away from his desk so he could pace in thought. "But now I see why he is adamant. You see, there is a certain _magic_ about you, Miss Mellette, which would prove most useful to us. But before I go on, tell me, where do you hale from that merits such a lovely dialect?"

Scarlette pursed her lips as she weighed her options. Severus went on about her? "The Isles. The Black Isles… but you may know them as the Caribbean. We are from lots of lost places, and some of our magic even come from the heart of Haiti, Africa—all over. Some of us even come from the South Pacific. In the Caribbean, we are just concentrated."

"Yes, yes… so you are a very powerful Caster. It's in your blood. There is only one other wizard capable of such devastation, and several others that share your prowess. But that's beside the point. I must be correct in assuming that your knowledge of the Dark Arts goes very far, that there is almost nothing you _have not_ come across, or cast?"

"You would be… correct."

"Good… and with credentials such as yours, I am sure you would not mind being a part of Hogwarts staff, and being able bodied enough to assist me and the others with whatever may come our way?"

"…what..?"

"And that your skills in offensive and defensive magic, as well as Casting, will be a hindrance to the Dark Lord, and a comeuppance for The Order..? That your particular talent will be used to defend the students should it become a necessity?"

"…We take no side in this war - "

"_You heard me_," Dumbledore said, his voice calm, the air around him alive with more than just her own essence. Silence followed his dangerous tone. "You chose your side when you came here under the guise that you were an anonymous force sent to murder Draco Malfoy and abduct Harry Potter! _Do you deny this?_"

"Do not insult me! This is absurd!"

"Were you not hired by Arthur Pendragon, a thieving, treacherous Death Eater, who betrayed Merlin himself, known to side with Dark Wizards so that he may be granted an extension on life? Did you consent to it? I warn you," Dumbledore boomed, sweeping from behind his desk to point his wand at her face as he gripped her jaw. Scarlette wanted to scream, but she knew better than to rebel against that which could easily overpower her. "Do not lie… to me. Did you or did you _**not**_ consent to your contract?"

"I did! I did it!" Scarlette shouted.

"So can you say that you did not choose a side in a very serious war, and attempted to take the life of an innocent boy, and sacrifice the other? Are you aware of just how dangerous the Dark Lord is?"

"No!" She sobbed. Dumbledore shoved her back into her seat and walked back behind his desk.

"Your redemption: _**Swear your allegiance to me,**_ and you will be granted amnesty, and your reputation shall remain as spotless as it is. The Ministry will remain ignorant of your whereabouts then, even… your bloodline. You will be spared; do you understand what I am saying to you?" Hands clasped tightly behind his back, he turned to face her. Scarlette's face was expressionless, the light and ferocity gone from her eyes. She tightened her lips, biting her bottom tier. Once again, her face was soaked in tears, and her brow had given way to the frown as she slowly looked up into the storm that was Dumbledore's eyes. "Swear it, or so help me, Cornelius Fudge will be here faster than you can say, 'nay.'"

"I… I…" she sobbed, the hope fading from her. She knew what a caged owl felt like, and she would never know true freedom again.

Albus slammed his hands on his desk as he leaned over to her. "_**Say it!**_ You, _what_, girl? _Hurry!_"

"_I swear my allegiance to you! _I swear… my _allegiance_…"

"Good girl." The Headmaster said, easing away from her. "Swear your allegiance to Harry James Potter, that you will be both a guiding light and an immoveable force set to protect him and his friends, even lay down your life in the face of danger. Swear it!"

"I swear my allegiance to Harry James Potter, to guide and protect him, to lay down my life should it come to such circumstances," she said softly.

"And lastly… You will swear _yourself_ to Severus Snape, that you will be his right hand; you will shoulder some of his burden, you will soothe and listen to him," Dumbledore went on, though she gave him a look of confusion at what he was saying in the case of Severus, "honor and defend him, be true and obey him without question, but not before me; you will be kind and unbiased, show him charity where he has none! Swear it!"

"I swear it…" she whispered, her eyes red from crying, her face slightly swollen as she swore herself to him. "I swear myself, unbiased, unwavering and undoubtedly, to Severus Snape, to honor and defend him, to soothe him through scourge and storm, and help him to bear his burden; I am to do what he asks—_with_ question should it put us both at death's door—and to always obey you before I obey him."

"Good. I'm sure you know that by your doing as Severus has said, you have been bound to The Order by way of your cursed blood, and your loyalties lie with us. To go back on this is to cause your untimely demise, am I correct in saying this?" he asked, noting Scarlette's slow nod. "Now dry your eyes, Scarlette. In time, you will come to see that not everything is as horrible as it seems when it plays out in our minds. Things will begin to make sense where there is none. You will find that you are able to keep yourself preoccupied as there is always a lot to do here, and I am confident that you will make a fine instructor, _Professor Mellette._"

"Ivory, please… My last name cannot be divulged."

"No, it most certainly cannot, Miss Ivory," He said, nodding in agreement, "return to Minerva. You will find her at the entrance to my office. She will give you a tour and introduce you to your fellow staff members. While you are adjusting to the classroom atmosphere, you will be assisting the teachers in whatever it is they need. This includes, but is not limited to, Rubeus Hagrid and his care of Magical Creatures. Trust me; it is every bit as dangerous as it sounds." Albus flattened out the front of his light blue robes.

"Since it is the weekend, I have called Alistair Moody to escort you back to your London apartment where you will collect your belongings. Your owl has already taken roost in the aviary. I believe that an individual with a nature and talent like your own would fit in at Ravenclaw… Good day to you, Professor Ivory. Your position will be made clear when the new quarter begins." Scarlette wiped her face clean on the sleeve of Severus's robe as she stood up to face the exit. "Professor Ivory… I think you will find your Ravenclaw students to be most enchanting… particularly Seraphine Cartwright."

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A/N

Scarlette is such a pain, but I love her just the same! I hope you do, too! Please review, and thank you all for reading! You rock!


	8. Chapter 8: Subversion and Reconcile

A/N: I really hope you all enjoy this chapter. I enjoyed writing it! ^_^

Disclaimer:...I wish, but I don't own Harry Potter. I own my O/C and her talents.

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**Chapter 8: Subversion and Reconcile **

It was particularly cool on Sunday, and the cold air of the dungeon had a way of seeping into even the warmest pockets of air. She stirred slowly, teeth chattering as she reluctantly moved to adjust the thick black comforter. Scarlette curled into a fetal position in her desperation for warmth. Even when warmth washed over her, she couldn't shake the slight discomfort that followed. She quickly brushed the auburn curls from her face. Her vision was still blurred, but she could just make out the figure standing in her doorway. His shadow danced on the floor of her room by way of the fireplace—and by its smell, it was just recently lit.

Severus had been watching her sleep for some time now. "It should be warmer shortly," she heard his silky voice drawl. Scarlette threw the covers away from her and rolled out of bed. The cold air that kissed the bare skin of her legs was enough to make her reconsider climbing out of bed. She straightened herself up, reaching back to pull the retreating hem of the simple t-shirt over the curve of her behind, and walked into the bathroom to wash up. She emerged almost twenty minutes later, clasped in a thick white robe that Severus had purchased for her (and shopping with Minerva was a pride-obliterating task).

The Potions Master was still planted in the doorway of her room, his arms crossed tightly as his dark eyes took in the sight before him. "Do not ignore me, Scarlette. It is _beyond… _frustrating." He said, but she crossed her arms beneath her chest and narrowed her eyes. "I will stay… right… here… until you _speak to me._" Rather than words, he privately enjoyed the curvaceous display as she dried herself off and dressed in front of him. An angry expression was plastered to her features, and her cheeks were especially red when she was done. She brushed past him to go into the sitting room, where a tray of food sat on the table in front of the heavily cushioned couch.

Severus followed after her, though he'd wanted more than just mere talk after what he'd seen. That vanilla scent was torturous, bringing back days and nights of a romance hardly forgotten. He snatched the slice of toast from her hand and threw it back to the plate, his face black with rage as he caught her vehement gaze with his. "You will speak when you are spoken to." Scarlette snatched her hand from his and shot up from her seat. She was stopped short when he grabbed her wrist and spun her around to face him.

"_**Speak!**_"

**SLAP!**

His head snapped sideways, and Scarlette's hand fell back to her side. A stinging, red handprint blossomed on his cheek, and before he could stop himself, Scarlette was pinned to a wall with a furious Severus wrestling her. "You _will_ address me, whether you like it or not!" Scarlette fought as best as she could, but Severus was a force to be reckoned with. Still, she would get the occasional humiliating slap in, leaving another handprint on his face. The latter grabbed her wrists then, and pulling her into him, he slammed her against the stone wall, knocking the breath out of her. He was out of his mind with anger, and possessed by a passion he'd thought dormant.

His lips found her neck and grazed the tender skin there, slowly moving their searing kisses to her throat. Scarlette fought harder, but he caught her flailing hands and, forcing her arms outward, he placed her hands palms down against the cold stone wall. The stone became like quicksand, and swallowed her hands, hardening before she'd had a chance to pull them to safety. Relieved to have disarmed her, his hands found their way up her black tunic dress, brushing the warm brown skin of her legs as they traversed upward.

Scarlette closed her eyes, trembling as her body betrayed her. She leaned her head against the wall, and arched her back to press her body against his. Slipping his arms around her back, he held her tightly, letting her maddening scent seduce him as he breathed her in. Impatient with himself, he untied the sash that fastened the tunic to her form. He stepped back to take in the sight before him; Scarlette was completely exposed to him. She felt herself growing cold, yet her body seemed to burn from the inside out. Her breathing was heavy and erratic, and she was helpless, at his mercy—worse, she _wanted_ him to take advantage of her.

His lips seized hers, hungry for the taste of her, and he was sure she would fight him; his efforts were rewarded with her fervent response, the softest whimper as she lifted a leg to pull him closer. Pulling himself away, he stared down into the wild seas that were her eyes, and he knew if she could've, she'd have devoured him. She lunged at him, but felt the painful resistance of the walls pulling at her wrists to keep her where he'd confined her. "Wait," he said, hastily undoing the buttons on his robes, and they landed gracefully around his ankles as he released himself from the pants that constricted him.

He lifted her, then, sliding his hands along her thighs as she folded her legs around him. She could only writhe against him, staring hungrily at him, silently begging him for release. He just couldn't do that to her, and leave her to be something he'd never known her to be. Securely on his waist, he slipped his arms around her and gingerly kissed her chin. His hands touched the wall that kept her, and the wildness that was Scarlette knew no bounds as she slid her arms around him, pressing her body closer so that there was no space between them… And he took her, giving into the heat, the lust, the passion that threatened to drive him into uncontrollable rage if he'd denied himself any longer.

Her soft sighs, her quiet groans and her whimpers grew into cries of ecstasy, and for that moment, Severus' only objective was to please her—Scarlette held onto him, running slender fingers through his hair, covering his back in long, deep scratches. He felt her body tense up and tremble against his, felt her and heard her as she cried out, and when he could stand it no more, he groaned into her neck and pulled her tightly against him. He felt his knees weakening, and summoning the last of his strength, he carried her over to the couch, leaning on its arm as he tossed the numerous cushions out of the way. He collapsed with her still straddling him, and met her smiling eyes with an exhausted smirk.

Scarlette smiled at him, and when he held his arms open for her, she obliged, closing her eyes as she rested her head upon his chest. His arms enveloped her, running a hand over her back, but resisting the urge to wipe away the beads of sweat that formed on his forehead. A white fleece blanket flew over to settle over them, and Severus put his wand on the coffee table. They stayed that way, wishing that time would just stand still as their minds drifted back to the evening where they'd both been spent.

She'd been lying in the sand beside him; the former listening to the latter's gentle breathing that seemed to match that of calm seas that caressed the receding shore. He'd kissed her shoulder and pulled her closer into himself. Even then, she still had that wildness about her, and that mass of curls that tickled his chin. The times had changed, and it was she that listened to his rhythmic heartbeats, the slow, relaxed deep breaths he took—and the soft growl of his snoring. She turned her head to look up at his face, and grinned at the wide-open mouth of Severus Snape in sweet repose.

She reached up to run her fingers through his hair once more, and then traced his jaw with the back of her hand. She glared at the fireplace just as the flames began to turn a yellowish green and roar. Albus Dumbledore stepped in, his hand raised as if her meant to make a point, his expression mirroring that of a man stricken with epiphany.

"Right, Severus, I meant to discuss with you the arrangements for the—" he started, stopping short at the sight before him. "—holidays… Goodness…"

Severus jerked awake beneath her, and all Scarlette could do was narrow her eyes as she made to slip away from him. His hands seized her waist and held her there, and her face welcomed the harsh hues of red from the sheer embarrassment of their position. He pulled the fleece tighter around them as he turned his head to face that Headmaster.

"I _see_," he said, that knowing twinkle coming back to the blue eyes that beheld the guilty party.

"What is there to _see_, Albus..?" Severus mused, his eyes moving back to the ever-silent Scarlette whose wrists he held tenderly.

"Nothing, I suppose."

"What do you have to discuss with me—Scarlette… stay… _still._" He warned. The friction between them—it was driving him mad. He could see the panic on her face, knowing that she wanted to get up and move before temptation overcame the both of them. The Headmaster stood stunned, blinking thoughtfully before he turned away.

"My apologies, Severus. I will leave you to yourselves."

"No, what is it..? I am in no mood to remove myself from this spot, and I most certainly will not be in the mood later."

"I wanted to discuss with you the arrangements for the holidays, but I see that inquiry is… unnecessary."

"What is he talking about, Severus..?" Scarlette asked, her voice warming to him.

"Ah, you've settled your differences, then. We shall discuss _**living arrangements**_ _after the holidays_. Good day," Albus said, waving Severus off before he could begin to argue. He stepped into the fire, and disappeared with the faintest "pop."

"I wasn't aware that we were in an argument," Scarlette said, letting her hands explore her lover's chest. He stared up at her, giving her a light scowl before he let his head drop back onto the cushion.

"I believe… we were," he responded, his hands resting idly on her waist. He gave her soft squeeze.

"We weren't. I just refused to speak with you." She leaned on him, now, her thick curls acting as a veil as she came to be nose-to-nose with him.

"And you not speaking to me and slighting me every chance you received—which was every waking moment of my life for the past… _thirty-two days_, does not constitute as outward anger?"

"_Non, cher._"

Severus' frown grew deeper as he stared into her smiling face, "You, Madam, are pitifully mistaken. If your actions offend me and you openly refuse to speak to me, or have anything to do with me—though I have been most graceful about it and have extended utmost kindness to you—then that, Scarlette, constitutes as an argument."

"No, Severus. Where I come from, if you are mad at someone, we say nothing to that person. Better y' say nothing than to say harsh words and wound someone's heart… like you do. This, what we are having, is an argument." She leaned in and kissed his lips. "And I have ended it_, cher_…" _That accent of hers…_ It always made things sound so much sweeter, or menacing depending on what left her mouth. This was no exception, and for the first time in what felt like years—and probably was—Severus felt the corners of his mouth tilt upward in a smile. She moved to slip away from him, and once again, he held her firmly in place before pulling her down to take another breath of her.

"Don't," he said, sitting up slowly and taking her with him.

"Severus—" she started, her face aglow as she smiled at him. "Let go. I'm hungry."

"And your breakfast is still on the table," he stated, reaching out to grab a piece of toast and hand it to her. To Scarlette's surprise, it was still warm, and she ate gratefully. "Eat. I just… I'd like it if you would stay by me."

"I'm not going anywhere. I can't," she said, her eyes holding the slight pain that tugged at her heart. Severus' brows furrowed as he stared into the dancing flames through which Albus had exited.

"That's not what I meant. You can still do as you please around here, but I'd like you to stay. Like this. For today."

She canted her head at him, her smile growing wider as her heart began to race, "Does it make you happy?"

He met her smile with one of his own, and touched his forehead to hers. "Yes."

"Did you miss me, Severus Snape?"

His mouth spread into a grin, and she felt him quaking with laughter, "Most regretfully, yes."

The two laughed, glad to have the bitterness between them nullified—at least for that day. They shared the breakfast he'd brought up, chatting about everything and nothing; and when Severus made her drink a small vial of green, sweet-tasting potion, he carried her into his room, leaned her onto his bed, and made sure she knew, for certain, that she was his in more ways than one.

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Oh, some peace and quiet between two unstoppable forces of nature! Finally! Please review! And thanks for reading! You all are awesome!


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